


Imperfection

by SapphireSmoke



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Awkward Romance, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Hate Sex, Love/Hate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-06 16:49:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 98,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1865268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireSmoke/pseuds/SapphireSmoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Mistake.</i> That word has always haunted her. She was her father’s mistake, and thus her sister was built to rectify it. The word made her feel dehumanized, like her entire worth amounted into nothing more than an error in her father’s calculations.  Why then, did she choose to throw that word in the convict’s face, knowing full well the repercussions of being made to believe that you were somehow created <i>wrong?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta:** [BellaRei713](http://www.fanfiction.net/u/641948/BellaRei713)  
>  **Timeline:** Directly after Jack and Miranda’s confrontation in ME2  
>  **A/N:** I want to give a big thank you to my first reader [DoomKitteh](http://archiveofourown.org/users/doomkitteh) for calming my writing-for-a-new-fandom nerves (again) and assuring me that I’m not fucking everything up, lol. Much appreciated. To everyone else, just a heads up that as of this moment, I’m only about halfway through ME3, so please _please_ don’t spoil anything for me in the reviews. I’m sure I’ll be finished with the game by the time I post chapter two, but still, lol. Anyway, this is yet again another one shot that ended up being much longer than I originally anticipated, and so it’s being split into chapters, with updates being every Sunday.

  


**I.**  


A sharp wave of pain shot down her spine, a forearm pressed tightly against her jugular, and suddenly Miranda found she couldn’t breathe. The façade of absolute stillness beneath the engineering deck had been shattered before the XO could register the change, rendering all of her defensive training into a laughable concept in the wake of her current predicament. She should have known Jack wasn’t really asleep, but she had been too preoccupied with her own thoughts to assess the woman’s breathing patterns before approaching her.

It had been a foolish mistake.

“The _fuck_ are you doing in my room?” Jack demanded, her eyes wild and angry as the barrel of a pistol pressed against the other woman’s abdomen. It was an idle threat and Miranda knew it, as Shepard would have her head if she killed a team mate and jeopardized the mission, yet the operative stilled herself in response; not out of fear or submission, but because she hadn’t come all the way down here for a bloody fight.

Regardless of her intentions however, when she opened her mouth a condescending attitude rolled naturally off her tongue. “I would hardly call this rusty hole a _room._ ”

Jack sneered at her, pressing her forearm tighter against the other woman’s larynx until it forced a choking sound from the back of Miranda’s throat. As she let up on the pressure a little, she snapped, “Don’t test me, princess; I’m not in the mood to be dicked around. Shepard may have ordered a ceasefire, but I’ll be damned if I let you come at me without defending myself. Touch me, and you die.”

“I didn’t come down here to touch you, you self-involved scrag,” Miranda snapped irritably, her voice coming out strained from the pressure the other woman still had on her throat. If that had been the only thing keeping her pinned against this damned wall, Miranda could have easily disarmed her. Unfortunately, the pistol pressed to her abdomen was still very much a factor, and the probability of the gun going off – accidentally or otherwise – if she took the convict by surprise was far too high for Miranda to reasonably risk.

And _again_ , she hadn’t come down here for a goddamn fight, although the longer this confrontation went on, the more desirable that option began to look. The woman was bloody intolerable.

“The hell you just call me?”

Miranda ignored the question, pressing on with a frustrated admission of, “I came down here to _apologize_ , so if you wouldn’t mind—” But her request to not be manhandled while doing so was cut off with a bitter laugh from the woman with a gun on her, apparently finding the concept completely ludicrous. 

“You’re shitting me, right?” And yet despite her disbelief, a part of Jack must have sensed some truth in it, because the pistol was holstered and she stepped back. “Fuck off. I don’t give a damn what makes you sleep better at night.”

Miranda rubbed her neck as she moved from her place against the wall, trying like hell to keep her temper in check. It was difficult; talking to this woman was like talking to a wall, and Miranda didn’t know how much patience she had for it. And yet still, she tried. “This isn’t about me…”

“Bullshit!” Jack snapped, pointing angrily in her face as she demonstrated, yet again, that personal space during this conversation was just a pipe dream. “That pretty little head of yours is shoved so far up your own ass I’m amazed you haven’t choked on your own shit yet. You’re here out of guilt; and excuse me for saying so, your royal bitchiness,” a mock bow followed, and the sarcastic nature of it made Miranda’s stomach tighten and her eyes narrow, “but I really couldn’t give a fuck about that.”

“This isn’t about _you_ either,” Miranda snapped, even though that was a lie. It was partly about her, and Jack was correct in assuming it was partially about the guilt she felt as well. But it was also about… “This is about the mission, Shepard, the rest of the squad. If we even have a hope of making it out of this alive, we need to work together; which doesn’t include being at one another’s throats whenever we’re in the same vicinity.”

“So you think you’re going to spew some bullshit apology at me and everything will be candy and roses?” Jack countered, laughing at the audacity in that. She smirked then, gesturing at the other woman as she took a few steps back towards her cot. “Guess Daddy missed a few key points when he engineered his perfect little biotic, huh? Cause your social skills, Cheerleader; they need some fucking work.”

“Until you’re capable of speaking more than two words to me without swearing, I believe I’ll pass on coming to you for advice on proper socialization,” Miranda responded, trying to come off as indifferent and even slightly superior, despite the bubbling frustration that burned hot in the pit of her stomach. She knew she shouldn’t be allowing Jack to get to her like this, but her father… that was a sore spot, and one the convict had no business speaking of. 

Jack just scoffed irritably as she flopped down on her cot, propping herself up against the wall with one knee raised towards the ceiling. Resting her elbow on it, the biotic leaned forward and demanded, “So? You got something to say then say it, ‘cause something tells me you’re not going to fuck off until you’ve had your piece, and frankly I’m already getting sick of hearing you talk.”

Charming. Part of Miranda questioned why she was even bothering with this, but then she remembered Pragia. 

Miranda had always been able to look at the bigger picture, find the acceptability in the sacrifice of countless lives for the betterment of the human race, but there had to be a line somewhere. For a long time she hadn’t known where it laid. She was so disconnected from the rest of the world as Cerberus placed themselves on a pedestal and regarded the people below as nothing more than a colony of ants. She saw others as a part of a larger whole, not as individuals. Her time on the Normandy, however, had integrated her with the masses she had long been separated from. Perhaps they were all still higher up than most, their mission giving them a purpose that made who they are and what they did more important than the life of a mere colonist, slave, or laborer, but in the end they were still a crew made up of different races, backgrounds, and ideals. Not all of them had started at the top; Jack least of all.

And for the first time in a long while, Miranda not only recognized that, but felt herself sympathizing with it. It was a disconcerting notion, but not something entirely unwelcome. All her life, she had been accused of being cold; she had accepted it, believed it, had even used it to her advantage, but it left her wondering how human she really was. Being genetically engineered often leaves one questioning the legitimacy of one’s own humanity, and she often wondered if she was even fighting for a race that was truly her own. It was things like this, however, that reminded her that she was made up of more than just strands of perfected DNA; that she was a human being, and not just a project built for a higher purpose.

“I stand by what I said earlier,” Miranda began, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall as she looked at the woman across from her. “What was done to you… that wasn’t Cerberus’ doing. They might have acted under our name and with our funding, but somewhere along the way they lost our ideals and went rogue. Believe me, neither I nor this corporation condone what was done to you there, and if we had found out sooner, we would have terminated the project long before your escape.”

“This your first apology? Because usually the words ‘I’m sorry’ are included somewhere,” Jack responded, scoffing at the mediocre attempt. She shook her head, her gaze landing on the wall. “Whatever; keep swallowing the Illusive Dick’s load and delude yourself into thinking you’re not the bad guys in this little play of yours. Doesn’t make a damn of a difference in my book; you’re all still thoroughbred assholes.”

“ _That being said,_ ” Miranda stressed, trying to let Jack’s accusation of her own naivety just wash right off of her instead of seeding deep in the recesses of her mind. She couldn’t afford to second guess the Illusive Man or this corporation’s purpose; not now, not when they were this close to taking on the Collectors. “What I said to you, it was… out of line.”

Miranda shifted, suddenly finding herself a little uncomfortable once Jack’s gaze fell back to her. It bothered her, that the woman was partially right; because while this may not be her first apology, it certainly was one of very few. Purebred perfection left little room for mistakes, and so it was not often that she made them. Or, perhaps, it just wasn’t often that she cared enough to acknowledge them. It would seem that the time she spent aboard this ship had changed her in more ways than she was expecting, and sometimes it was hard to distinguish whether or not that was a good thing.

“What was done to you, that was a mistake. But you… you are not, and I apologize for saying so.”

 _Mistake._ That word had always haunted her. She was her father’s mistake, and thus her sister was built to rectify it. The word made her feel dehumanized, like her entire worth amounted into nothing more than an error in her father’s calculations. Why then, did she choose to throw that word in the convict’s face, knowing full well the repercussions of being made to believe that you were somehow created _wrong?_ Perhaps she had momentarily believed that wielding the weapon that was once used to hurt her would somehow give her power over it, but in the end, all it did was remind her of how it felt to be on the receiving end of it. 

She had seen a flicker of hurt in the other woman’s eyes as soon as the word was out of her mouth. It was brief, but it was still very much present before being barricaded behind walls of anger and hatred. Miranda could relate, outside of the fact that her walls were built with indifference and an act of superiority rather than something fierce and untamable. It was unsettling to realize that she may have more in common with the vulgar, tattoo-covered ruffian across from her than she had originally believed, as Miranda had made great strides into becoming the opposite of everything Jack encompassed. But perhaps if others had bothered to peel back the layers of her own genetic makeup and see the person underneath, Miranda wouldn’t have grown up believing that her surface was all she had to offer someone. 

She could see that same belief in Jack. Miranda had seen that look so many times in the mirror that it was hard to ignore. Unlike her, Jack may have been physically born, but she was built all the same. She was bred for a singular purpose, and thus believed that was all she was useful for. Jack didn’t need to say it for Miranda to know; she could see it in her lifeless eyes and her standoffish behavior, in the way she presented her skills before her personality. It was far more familiarity than Miranda was comfortable being confronted with, and so she averted her gaze in order to distance herself from the painful reminder of her own struggle with finding self-worth. 

Some kind of emotion had seemed to flicker behind Jack’s dark eyes after Miranda had uttered her apology, but it was gone just as fast as it appeared, her expression hardening as she allowed her mask to fall back into place. “That it?” Miranda murmured a sound of agreement, as she didn’t know what to offer her outside of that. “Good,” Jack finished. “Now get the fuck out.”

And as Miranda was neither looking for a friend nor someone to relate to, she did. No matter how alike they might be beneath the surface, they were still very different people, and perhaps it would be better if they kept their distance. The only reason she had come down there was to make certain that this rift between them didn’t jeopardize the mission, and while she still wasn’t sure that it wouldn’t, she had at least tried. In the end, it was all that she could do.

[x]

Miranda sat at her desk, her eyes scanning the split-screen monitor in front of her. Keeping the Illusive Man informed of their squad’s current status had been a part of her job since the very beginning, and that included watching her team’s movements, even when they weren’t aware of it. _Especially_ when they weren’t aware of it in fact, as you can learn far more about who a person really is when they believe they aren’t being watched.

Every room on the ship was monitored by hidden cams that were routed directly into her private terminal, and every night Miranda would pour over the footage for hours before finally retiring to bed. It was a tedious task, as only rarely was there something of note that she would have to pass on; Kasumi’s tendency to cloak herself and run around the ship unchecked, for one. Miranda wasn’t sure if the woman either had something to hide or just enjoyed spying on the other’s unnoticed, but regardless she brought it up to the Illusive Man, in case he wanted to use her as another source of intel. 

Miranda doubted it had come to anything, as the thief most likely could not be trusted with such a sensitive task, but occasionally she would get the feeling that there was someone in the room with her when she believed she was alone. That caused a slight paranoia that the Illusive Man had tasked Kasumi with keeping an eye on _her,_ but Miranda brushed that off as ridiculous just as soon as the thought had entered her mind. The Illusive Man trusted her; there was no reason for him to spy on her. And besides, even if he had tried to commission her, it was doubtful that Kasumi would take the offer. She didn’t exactly seem interested in anything Cerberus had to offer.

Miranda fast forwarded through the feeds in the Captain’s Cabin, as Shepard rarely spent time in there, before finally a figure immerged in the vid. The time stamp indicated it was late, so she was probably headed off to bed. Still, she continued to watch as the Commander peeled off her armor and set it aside. Miranda smirked, settling back into her chair; in the end, there were _some_ upsides to this job. It probably said something terrible about her, that she chose to watch some of her shipmates get undressed instead of fast forwarding through it like a respectable person, but her perversions did have a limit. Like…

Now, actually.

Miranda watched her fully nude Commander grab the picture of Liara off her desk, and Miranda immediately switched the feeds, already knowing where this was going. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. Miranda didn’t know how she did it, keep a relationship alive when she had been separated from her mate for so long. Miranda didn’t know much about love, or even commitment for that matter, but it seemed as though it would be a difficult thing to do; it was why she only concerned herself with meaningless trysts with faceless partners. It was just simpler that way.

Miranda looked back at the screen, coming to her last feed of the day; beneath the engineering deck. While usually she left Shepard’s cabin for last, as it was generally a quick run through before bed, Miranda had been purposely putting off watching Jack’s feed. Coming to the realization that she shared more in common with the convict than she had previously thought had made her uncomfortable, for more reasons than one. It instinctively made her wish to place distance between them, as she found her growing curiosity in the woman more than a little unsettling. 

Miranda knew it was a bad idea, to be so intrigued by her. The woman was psychotic, unstable, foul-mouthed, and violent. If she had control over these things, Miranda would have chosen to never give the woman a second glance. Unfortunately however, she did not. 

And it irritated her, her lack of control over her own thought process. Nothing good would come from this, and yet there was something in the back of her mind that nagged at her, wondering all these ridiculous things that were absolutely none of her business. Miranda was being truthful when she said that she didn’t want a friend; and even if she did, her first choice certainly would not be Jack. But that being said, it seemed she wasn’t entirely truthful when she believed she wasn’t looking for someone to relate to, because despite how much she tried to discourage her own curiosity, it still insisted on focusing on the one person she really didn’t even want to be within a hundred yards of.

It was an entirely conflicting feeling, and one that sought to drive her mad.

But perhaps she wasn’t the only one with curiosities. When Miranda had approached her, Jack had been volatile, angry. It surprised her that Jack had actually backed off enough to allow her to apologize, but then again, Miranda couldn’t imagine that many people in Jack’s life had actually bothered to before. Whether it made any real difference she couldn’t be sure, but at least Jack hadn’t been at her throat the last few days. If anything, it was like Miranda’s existence didn’t concern her, which was just as irritating, but a much better option in regards to their mission; and that, in the end, was what was important. Miranda would rather be ignored than have their mission jeopardized because of a rift between Jack and Cerberus that had nothing to personally do with her.

Leaning on her elbows, Miranda took note of the woman on her monitor. She was sitting cross-legged on her cot, pen in her hand as she scribbled into a notebook. Miranda had seen her do that many times now, and it was strange to her, that Jack seemed to prefer writing the old fashioned way; hardly anyone did anymore. But it was unlikely that she had been allotted an omni-tool in captivity, so perhaps this was all that the woman was used to. Still, the more Miranda watched her write, the more curious she became about what exactly the convict was always writing down.

Which, in the end, was a terrible thing to wonder about, because it caused her to do something very stupid.

Shepard had taken Jack on a mission a few days later, and Miranda, unable to help herself, stole down to the engineering deck in order to sate her curiosity. She rationalized it to herself that if it was perhaps a hit list or something else that would no doubt distract the convict and put the mission in jeopardy, then she needed to know about it. She had a job to do after all, and making sure the squad was up for this task was a part of it.

Miranda pulled out the small notebook from where she knew Jack hid it as she sat down on the woman’s bed and opened it up. There were a few scrawled drawings in it, just rough lines that depicted near-human looking creatures she had never seen before looking dark, angry, depressed. Perhaps they were supposed to be some kind of creative expression for her feelings; Miranda was unsure. What she did know though, was that she had an extensive database of every race in the Traverse, and whatever these things were, they did not really exist. Maybe they were representing her own demons? Or the ones that Cerberus gave to her. Either way, the hollowness of their eyes and the coldness of their expression unsettled Miranda, and she quickly flipped the page so she didn’t have to look at them anymore.

There were words on the next page, and as Miranda began to read them, her eyes widened in surprise. It wasn’t some kind of journal entry or anything, which was what she had been expecting. No, it was _poetry._ The tattooed, foul-mouthed convict wrote _poetry._ If Miranda hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she would have never believed it; the woman did not exactly have a way with words when she spoke, after all.

The work was fairly juvenile, being rather straight forward and not leaving the reader with an air of intrigue and contemplation, but all the same, it was not completely awful. Most of it seemed far more depressing and self-hating than angry, but Miranda did come across one entitled ‘Fuck you,’ which made her snort quietly to herself. Figures. 

Miranda slammed the notebook shut and looked up sharply when she suddenly heard what sounded like the shuffling of feet, panic momentarily gripping her chest. Not that she feared what Jack would do to her should she find her down here, rummaging through her stuff, but the blowback it would cause the squad would easily erase a lot of the progress they had made. She didn’t want them to be distrustful of her, to know that she watched them at all times and reported back to the Illusive Man. It wouldn’t be good for morale. 

She waited a few moments though and no other sounds came; perhaps it was all in her own head, or the engine making a strange noise. Regardless, Miranda found herself relaxing once more as she settled back against the wall, reopened the notebook, and continued reading everything that Jack’s unstable mind had to offer.

It had been a terrible, terrible idea.

Miranda was sitting at her desk the next day, reviewing past mission reports when suddenly the image of Jack and Kasumi on her monitor caught her eye. Jack barely spoke to anyone which was why it was strange, but at the same time, every time she did she usually told people to fuck off, making any of her interactions with the squad fairly short lived. Miranda made a mental note to listen in when she was reviewing the feeds later that night, but otherwise barely regarded it as something to be concerned about right now.

At least until Jack came barging right through her door.

Miranda had been so engrossed with her reports that the sound of the door banging against the wall actually made her jump, and she only barely dodged the punch that was thrown her way as she hit the ground and rolled out of the other woman’s reach, crouching on the floor as she looked up at the furious expression on Jack’s face. 

Shit. _Shit._

“You nosey little bitch— _I’ll fucking kill you!_ ”

Miranda just barely produced a barrier that blocked Jack’s shockwave, causing it to disperse and completely destroy one of her end tables. The commotion must have alerted the rest of the crew as to what was going on, and suddenly Shepard came out of seemingly nowhere, standing between them as she screamed, “Hey, _hey!_ Stand down; both of you!”

Jack’s fist was charged with her biotics, covering her entire arm in blue energy as she sneered at the operative that was trying to pick herself up off the floor. Her eyes wild and angry, she pointed furiously at Miranda and shouted, “The Cerberus bitch has been going through my shit like she’s fucking entitled to it! _Nobody_ touches my shit, Shepard; and I swear to God, if you don’t fucking—!”

“Hey!” Shepard interrupted, putting her hand on Jack’s chest as the woman began advancing on Miranda again. “Take a breather; I will not have you both tearing each another apart on my watch like a couple of prepubescent children. This is _my_ ship, and when I tell you to stand down, _you stand down._ ”

Jack furiously pushed herself away from Shepard’s touch, running her nails over her scalp as she turned away from them both. But in the end that was a terrible thing to do, as her eyes landed on Miranda’s private terminal which, in the commotion, she had forgotten to switch off. Jack grabbed the monitor, nearly breaking it as she brought herself closer to the image it was portraying. “What the _fuck!_ ”

Miranda’s stomach sank as Shepard turned, her gaze falling on the monitor that was split screened into four different cams on the ship, the image switching to a different four every few minutes. And of course it had to have the worst timing as well, as the next screen flickered into one that showed above and below the engineering deck, the port cargo, and Shepard’s personal cabin. _Shit._ In the span of twenty four hours, Miranda had managed to severely jeopardize her job; and quite honestly she didn’t really know how to handle it, as she had never been this careless before. Efficiency and forethought were practically built into her DNA.

She should have never gone down into Jack’s room. Or, perhaps, she should have pushed Kasumi out of the airlock once she realized she was cloaking herself all over the damn ship. She _knew_ something bad would come from that kind of unmonitored freedom…

Jack turned away from the monitor then, her eyes alight with fury and purpose as a crazed smile etched across her face. “Oh, you’re _dead_ , bitch.”

“What the hell did I just say to you!?” Shepard shouted, blocking Jack from attacking Miranda again, who had instinctively placed herself in a defensive position. “If you want to stay on this ship then you’re going to damn well respect my authority on it. Go back to your quarters until you’ve learned to calm down; I’ll deal with my XO.” 

Jack still looked infuriated, but she did pause in her advancement on the operative. Ever since Pragia, it seemed like Jack had at least grown to respect Shepard, and so after a moment of staring down Miranda like she wished her gaze would flay her alive, she stepped back. Not for Miranda’s sake, not even for her own, but for her Commander’s. 

“You better fucking deal with this,” she told Shepard, pointing at Miranda angrily. “Or _I_ will.”

“It wasn’t personal; I was just doing my job—” Miranda tried, keeping her voice calm and rational as she hoped that at least a little professionalism would defuse the situation, but all it did was rile Jack up even further.

“ _Screw_ you—!”

“Jack!” Shepard interrupted, her patience wearing thin. “Out, _now._ ”

Jack ground her teeth, her eyes flashing at the Commander before she turned and left. However not before charging up her biotics and forcefully punching the wall in Miranda’s room, denting the metal as she shouted more profanity at her, at Shepard, at this entire situation. The door closed behind her with a heavy slam, and the Commander suddenly rounded on Miranda. 

“What the hell is this?” she demanded, pointing at the monitor on the desk. Miranda opened her mouth to reply, but Shepard didn’t let her get a word out. “You know what? I don’t care. But this ends, _now._ I will not have you spying on a crew that is already filled with mistrust; I have spent _countless_ weeks trying to earn their loyalty, to me, to this mission, and to this squad, and what you’ve done could have very well jeopardized all of that.”

Miranda steeled her jaw, not particularly fond of being reprimanded when she was just doing her job. Yes, she should have been more careful, she’d admit to that, but she still stood by her decision to undertake this assignment in this first place. “I was following _orders,_ Shepard—”

“Let’s get one thing very clear,” Shepard responded, her tone dropping to a dangerous level. “You don’t work for the Illusive Man; you work for _me._ He is a resource in this mission, not our commanding officer. I am cutting off all of your contact with him; from now on, if either of you wishes to speak to one another, you will either do it through me or you won’t do it at all. Is that understood?” 

A knot formed in the pit of Miranda’s stomach, twisting violently in her gut as she forced herself to comply with a terse, “Yes, Commander.”

“Good,” Shepard responded, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the wall. “Now, you mind telling me why you were going through Jack’s stuff?”

Not particularly, no, although the question wasn’t actually posed like she had the option to deny her.

“I was… concerned. She spends quite a lot of time writing in a notebook, and should it have included plans to go rogue, or even a hit list of all the people who have wronged her – which would have no doubt distracted her from the mission we’re about to undertake – I thought it vital that we know ahead of time so we would be aware of what we’re dealing with.”

“And did it?” Shepard asked, arching an eyebrow. “Include _any_ of those things?” Miranda bit the inside of her cheek, her eyes meeting the floor. She felt ashamed that she had tried to prevent her squad mates from screwing up this mission, when in the end it turned out that it was she who was doing so. 

“…No.”

“I see,” Shepard responded flatly. “So you just jeopardized my squad’s relationship and trust in one another for absolutely no reason then.”

That stung, much more than Miranda would ever admit. She really did not take well to being wrong; she attributed it to failure, which she had been conditioned to fear and despise. “Commander, you know I have always had the crew’s best interest in mind. I made a judgment call, and yes, perhaps I was mistaken, but—”

“ _Perhaps?_ ” Shepard repeated, looking at her XO disbelievingly. “Jack has trust issues as it is already, and it’s going to take quite a while to undo the damage that you did here. Which, starting now, is your new assignment while aboard this ship. You made this mess; now you clean it up.”

Miranda had absolutely no idea how she was going to go about that, as she doubted Jack would allow for another apology that didn’t end with the operative getting punched clean across the jaw, and yet she quietly responded with an agreeable, “Understood, Commander.”

“Now is there anything else I should know about?” Shepard asked, her tone expectant if not a little impatient. “Are there going to be any more of my crew complaining about you going through their things? Because this could get real old, real fast.”

“No, Commander. Jack was the only one, I assure you.”

That revelation caused Shepard to narrow her eyes as she uncrossed her arms, moving from her place on the wall. “So it was personal then,” she noted. She didn’t sound surprised in the least, however; almost as though she were expecting it.

Miranda blinked, looking a little taken aback by that assessment. “Excuse me?”

“You told Jack that it ‘wasn’t personal’,” Shepard repeated, crossing the room to stand in front of her. The way she was looking at her, it was almost as though as she was trying to look a little deeper than what Miranda offered on the surface. It felt terribly invasive. “Yet you only dug into _her_ privacy.”

Suddenly, Miranda felt a little flustered. Still, she straightened her spine and tried to keep her professionalism, but her excuses for what she had done were running thin and she didn’t know what else to say to explain her actions. In the end, it really had just been about her being nosy. “It was… only a precaution; I had no intention of singling her out or—”

“You know, Miranda,” Shepard interrupted, clasping a hand on the operative’s shoulder and silencing the woman’s words. “I don’t usually give advice; it’s messy and complicated and the results are usually unpredictable, but you seem like you need some basic insight here, so here we go: if you want to get to know someone, maybe you should drop the shady, rummaging-through-their-shit approach and try actually _talking_ to them.”

Miranda stepped away from her then, the movement so quick that it was almost as though Shepard’s touch had burned her. “I _don’t_ want to get to know her, Shepard,” she denied, as though the mere thought of it actually offended her. She might be curious about Jack, but she certainly wasn’t looking to make some kind of connection with her. She had better things to do with her time.

Shepard just looked amused by her denial. “Could have fooled me,” she replied, smirking in this irritating little way that made Miranda want to knock the wind out of her just to make it disappear. The commander turned then, heading out of the office as she finished, “Let me know how it goes.”

“How _what_ goes?” Miranda asked, her tone coming out a little terse as she clenched her teeth together, trying to keep her aggravation inside of her, where it belonged. She didn’t like people to know that they had gotten to her; it made her look weak.

“The ‘talking’ thing. One way or another, Miranda, you’re fixing this; and that might be a good place to start.”

Miranda exhaled a frustrated breath, but did not contradict her commanding officer. Instead, she called out to her with, “Commander!” And as Shepard turned around in the doorway, Miranda changed the subject with another concern of hers. “Jack was only informed of what I had done because Kasumi was keeping tabs on me while cloaked. She runs around the ship like that quite often, and if it’s a violation of your squad’s privacy you’re concerned about, then you might want to consider speaking with her.” 

_Before I’m forced to,_ she finished in her head, anger seething in the pit of her stomach. Kasumi held no loyalty to Jack, so why she chose to tell her what she had done, Miranda did not know. Perhaps the woman just enjoyed starting drama. Whatever it was though, it was going to end, one way or another. If it hadn’t been for the thief’s big mouth, she wouldn’t be in this predicament right now; and oh, how Miranda _loathed_ being reprimanded, because if there was anything that she knew she was good at, it was her _job._

Shepard nodded though, understanding both Miranda’s concern and her anger, and promised, “I’ll talk to her about it.”

Miranda gave her a curt nod in return. “Thank you.” She paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of her cheek for a moment before she closed with, “And I’m… sorry, for the disruption I’ve caused. It was never my intention.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Shepard replied the door started automatically closing behind her form. “Just fix it.”

**TBC…**


	2. II

**II.**

“Hey, uh, Miranda?” came Joker’s voice over the intercom in her room early the next morning, causing the operative to rub the sleep out of her eyes and sit up in bed, the covers bunching around her hips as she pushed the hair back from her face. “That thing you wanted to know about? EDI says it’s happening in the mess hall right now.”

Miranda looked at the clock on her on her bedside table. Right now? It was such an ungodly hour to be awake, considering they were all up late the night before, dealing with the Blue Suns on Sanctum. But, now that she thought about it, she supposed it made sense; no one else would be awake at this hour. It was the perfect time to be alone. 

Stifling a yawn, Miranda climbed out of bed and responded gratefully, “Thank you, Joker.”

“Yeah, no problem. But hey, uh… do me a favor and keep this low key? I don’t want to be mixed up in it if it gets out of control; that chick scares me, and I heard about the drama.”

_Great._ EDI’s doing probably, as she knew everything that happened on this ship, but it caused Miranda to worry about how many others had heard about it. Shepard wanted to keep the details of her little espionage assignment low key so as to not upset the other crew members, but maybe that was just a pipe dream. Jack had a loud mouth, and even if she was told to keep quiet about it, there wasn’t any guarantee that she’d actually have enough self-control in order to do so.

In the end though, she understood Joker’s worries. In a way, Miranda was doing the exact same thing that had gotten her into this mess, only this time she was using their ship’s pilot and AI to gather her intel. But she didn’t want to approach Jack in her room, as she was certain the woman wouldn’t take too kindly to her being in there after what she had done, and so her only option was to do so when the woman left the confines of her little hole and was alone. And that was fairly difficult, seeing as Jack barely left engineering. 

So she asked Joker if he could possibly inform her of the next time the convict was alone in one of the common areas. It was harmless, really; at least in comparison to everything else. Still, there was no reason for Jack to find out that she now had EDI keeping tabs on her instead, so she assured Joker as she pulled on her cat suit, “Don’t worry; I can assure you that your name will never be dragged into it.”

She could hear Joker let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Miranda. And uh… good luck; try not to let her stab you with a fork or anything.”

_Cheery,_ Miranda thought dryly. _Although an entirely valid warning, given the circumstances._

Exhaling a long breath, Miranda prepared herself for the confrontation that was most likely to come as she exited her quarters. Running her fingers through her tousled hair, she approached the mess hall to see Jack sitting in one of the chairs, one of her legs propped up on rungs as she ate her bagel. Miranda knew that the woman never ate with the rest of them, always coming to get food either much earlier or much later than everyone else, but God, it was never _this_ early. She must really be trying to avoid coming into contact with anyone today, which in the end was probably just going to aggravate her that she had failed.

When Jack took notice of her, her expression clouded over with anger and irritation as she slammed her bagel down on her plate and swiveled to face her. All of the muscles in her body tensed, instinctively preparing herself for a fight as she demanded, “The fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m getting breakfast,” Miranda defended, wanting the woman to think that the two of them crossing paths this morning was just a coincidence. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that _is_ what the mess hall is for, yes?”

“Screw you,” Jack shot back, not believing her for a second. “You expect me to believe that? You’re never awake this early. Spying on me again, Cheerleader? Because that shit is gonna become hazardous to your health if you don’t fuck off real quick.”

“Right, you caught me,” Miranda deadpanned as she grabbed a muffin from off the counter. “Your breakfast habits are clearly important intel that I must report on immediately. Quick, tell me what kind of cream cheese you put on your bagel; the fate of the entire Traverse may rest on your answer.” 

“You think you’re so fucking funny, don’t you?”

“What I find funny is you being confrontational over my desire to feed myself in the morning. Not everything has to do with you.”

That was a blatant lie, as Miranda would still be happily snuggled into her bed right now if she didn’t have to deal with the mess she had created, but Jack didn’t need to know that. Sitting a respectable distance away from her with her own breakfast, she watched Jack place her hand on the table and lean closer to her, a sneer crossing her full, painted lips.

“You want to know why I’m confrontational, Cerberus bitch?” Jack responded, her eyes looking almost black from her contained fury. “Because some self-involved cunt helped herself to my shit; Little Miss High-And-Mighty, the princess of her own little world, decided that she’s fucking better than everyone else and was privy to my goddamn business.”

“Privy, huh?” Miranda repeated before she could stop herself; but it was early, and her filters hadn’t exactly kicked on yet. “Big word.”

Jack slammed her hands down on the wood, furious that she was mocking her. “Don’t start with me, bitch! The only reason I’m not dancing around this ship with your intestines draped around my neck is because of Shepard, so I’d count your fucking blessings if I were you and not push me, because there’s only so much shit I’ll take from you before ‘orders’ don’t matter anymore. Try me; I’ve been itching for a good kill lately.” A crazed smile crossed her face, the expression no doubt meant to intimidate her as she practically purred, “Something violent and bloody and _wet._ I’d love to lick you off my fingers, Cheerleader; I bet you taste real good.”

And Miranda was certain that the woman was talking about her blood, but in her early morning haze that was _not_ how her brain interpreted it at all. Jack had been conditioned from a young age to get pleasure from violence, so it wasn’t any surprise that the thought of that sounded as though it turned her on, but that tone coupled with those words that, out of context, sounded entirely sexual, made a fierce heat spark to life in the pit of Miranda’s abdomen that she, in no way, ever wanted to feel in regards to _her._ It probably put into question her own sanity.

A slow smirk crossed Jack’s face then, having recognized what her words did to the woman on the other side of table, despite the signs being extremely minimal with only slightly dilated pupils and a sharp inhale of breath. “That turn you on, slut? You’re _fucked._ ”

Miranda steeled her jaw, her eyes flashing in warning. “Actually I believe that turned _you_ on, which says quite a lot about you, doesn’t it?”

“You’re the one who did this to me, Cerberus bitch; screwed with my head, made me get off on fucked up things. What, can’t reap what you sow? Pussy.”

“ _I_ didn’t do anything to you, Jack. We’ve been over this.”

“Mmm,” Jack purred, a vindictive smile crossing over her face as she apparently found it amusing to mess with her, seeing what her little seductive tone did before. “There’s something real fucked up about you, isn’t there? Something shameful; something perverse, something _sick_ and rotted inside of you. That why you’ve been halfway up my ass ever since I got on this ship? That perfect little act you put on not doing it for you anymore, princess; want to get your hands dirty and have some _real_ fun? I could make you scream; make you cry and bleed and beg me not to stop…”

“Stop hitting on me, you psychopath,” Miranda snapped, that feeling in her gut growing hotter as her aggravation over her body’s reaction caused her to lash out. It was disgusting, how sexy the convict sounded when she spoke about basically ripping her to shreds; nothing that screwed up should ever sound so appealing. Miranda might be into some unorthodox things in regards to sex, but blood play was at least twelve steps above what she was comfortable with. And yet, despite that, some sick part of her seemed to ache for Jack to tear her apart.

It had been far too long since she had had sex, Miranda rationalized. The next time they had shore leave, she needed to rectify that, because this was unacceptable on quite a lot of different levels.

“Why?” Jack asked, that damned smirk still on her face as she slithered out of her chair, coming around the table and crossing the distance between them. “You _enjoy_ it.”

Miranda’s face hardened as every muscle in her body became stiff, remaining motionless as Jack invaded her personal space from behind. She didn’t want to move from her seat or turn to face her, because that would imply that she was intimidated by her, or wary of what she might do from the advantage of her position. In the end, she knew Jack was unlikely to attack her; apparently Shepard had tamed her, at least to a point, and it was obvious anyway that she was finding some kind of sick satisfaction out of screwing with her head.

“How long has it been?” Jack breathed, her voice dropping a few octaves lower as she leaned forward, placing her hands on either side of the operative and effectively trapping her against the table. “Since someone’s slithered their way into that uptight cunt of yours, huh? How long has it been since someone’s bent you over… and _violated_ every hole in your body? I bet you’re just _aching_ for it, aren’t you, Cerberus slut?”

Miranda didn’t say anything. Instead she just continued to stare at the far wall, her stature rigid as she desperately tried to control the reaction her body was having to Jack’s words. It was entirely screwed up, and she was not about to give the woman the satisfaction of _winning;_ she didn’t deserve to see her squirm. No one did.

Jack placed her lips against Miranda’s ear then, her hot breath causing an involuntary shiver to roll down the operative’s spine before she could suppress it. “It really is too bad then,” she breathed against her skin, “that I’ll never even be desperate enough to touch your whore pussy with a ten foot pole.”

Miranda suddenly snapped, her elbow colliding with Jack’s abdomen so hard and so quickly that it caused the convict to double over as she exhaled a sound of pain, staggering back a few steps. Laughter followed however, the sound coming out strained as she clutched her stomach with one hand, watching Miranda turn around in a wave of fury that she had purposely provoked. “Something I said?” she goaded, apparently beginning to find this _entertaining._ It infuriated Miranda.

“You’re pathetic,” she retaliated, her eyes flashing as she shot the convict a little condescending smirk. “Projecting your disgusting little fantasies on me; how long has it been for _you,_ Jack? Must be a while, if you’re so desperate to turn on your worst enemy.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, princess; you’re hardly my worst enemy,” Jack retorted, looking almost amused that Miranda would think so. “You’re nothing but a fucking _flea;_ an itch, an annoyance.”

“And yet you’re still _aching_ for it to get scratched, aren’t you?” Miranda countered, turning the tables on her as she invaded her personal space, nearly pressing Jack against the wall. Her gaze flickered from the woman’s eyes, to her lips, and back again as she smirked wickedly, watching the breath hitch in the back of Jack’s throat. “Don’t delude yourself into thinking I can’t read you, convict. As much as you’re trying to turn _me_ on, you’re turning yourself on even more. How wet are you right now, after thinking about bending me over, hm? _Embarrassingly_ so, I bet.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Jack snapped, her eyes flashing in warning, Miranda having apparently hit a sore spot. It made the operative’s smirk widen.

“Oh, I might just,” she responded, amused at the reaction she had provoked. Leaning in, Miranda sought to deal her payback in kind as she leaned in just enough for Jack to feel her hot breath against her skin as she whispered her amended cruelty, “But believe me, no matter how low I might sink to get myself off, I would never disgust myself by thinking about _you_ while I’m doing it.”

Miranda was pushed backwards then, before a hard fist connected with her jaw. In that moment, pain had never felt so much like winning. She chuckled as Jack sneered, but then a hand was on her chest and she was being shoved roughly against the table, the movement forcing Miranda to sit on the edge of it as Jack pushed her form between her thighs, apparently having decided to prove the operative wrong to… what, preserve her reputation, her sense of self-worth? Whatever the reason, the fierce hatred, the raw sexuality behind her dark eyes as she grabbed Miranda’s chin angrily in her hand caused a deep moan to escape the XO’s lips without warning, her body reacting instinctively to the dominance in the woman’s actions as she wrapped her legs around Jack’s hips, pulling her closer.

She had no idea how this had happened. Hadn’t she come down here to apologize; to make things right between them, for their Commander’s sake, for their _mission’s_ sake? But Jack had an uncanny way of getting underneath her skin, and now she was fiercely tugging on the straps that bound the woman’s chest as Jack kissed her violently, possessively, biting on her lips and sucking on her tongue. It was as though her mind was in a haze, leaving her with nothing but a blaze of fury and desperate, unhinged desire as she clawed at painted skin and gasped wantonly in her mouth, suddenly finding that she wanted nothing more than to be violated atop the mess hall table by a wanted psychopath.

Well, maybe this was one way to sort out their differences; but then again, it could also very well lead to more. 

Miranda found she had a hard time caring though as Jack pulled down the zipper on her cat suit. “You dirty slut,” the convict sneered against her lips, her fingers peeling the fabric down Miranda’s shoulders before suddenly jerking her off of the table, forcing the operative to her feet before forcefully turning her around and bending her over. 

Miranda groaned as she gripped the edges, feeling Jack push the fabric that covered her body down off of her hips, leaving it resting just halfway down her thighs before spanking her hard on the ass. Miranda cried out, her insides clenching in a need that she hadn’t realized she had wanted before now. “This was what you were fucking after, wasn’t it? _Wasn’t it?_ ”

“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” Miranda countered breathlessly, her nails raking against the surface of the table, and she prayed to any God that would listen that no one would be heading to breakfast anytime soon. Jack had wound her up so tightly that she was afraid she very well may break if she didn’t get off; and damnit, she _despised_ her for that, for somehow finding her weakness for domination and possession. Was she so easy to read?

“You’re the one bent over like a whore here, princess,” Jack responded after the telltale sound of her own zipper was undone, causing her cargo pants to hit the floor. Chuckling cruelly as she pulled the woman’s panties down her thighs, Jack roughly spread her ass cheeks before pressing herself between them, causing Miranda to exhale another needy moan as she pushed her hips into her. “You want this, Cerberus bitch? _Then beg for it._ I want to hear you good and desperate for me to fuck you for this to be worth my while.”

“Not in your lifetime,” Miranda spat, refusing to give Jack that much power over her. She moved her hand then, reaching down to take care of herself if Jack wasn’t so inclined, but the other woman snatched both of her wrists and pinned them to the table.

“You think you’re in control, bitch?” Jack sneered, her fingers digging into Miranda’s flesh. “I’d take a good long look at the position you’re in right now. You’re either going to do what I say, or rub one out alone in your room while you think of all the things I could have done to you, if you had only learned your place. Either way, _I win._ ”

A fierce hatred surged through Miranda’s chest, but it found its way downwards and settled between her thighs all the same. As much as she despised this, she was getting off on it, and the worst part of it all was that Jack _knew._ The convict’s thigh had pressed between her own, and the amount of wetness that was now coating her skin was proof enough that she had gotten to her. That she had won. 

Fuck. Miranda hated her. And yet even still, like some kind of animal in heat, Miranda couldn’t stop herself from trying to rub her herself against the woman’s leg, desperate to be free of the tension that had settled itself between her thighs.

Jack laughed.

“You want me. You _want_ me to fuck you. Say it.”

“—I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself,” Jack replied, still chuckling to herself as she pressed her own dripping center against one of the operative’s firm cheeks, beginning to rub herself against her skin. “I’ll get myself off all over your ass and leave you dripping and untouched; doesn’t bother me any.”

Miranda fought against her then, but Jack had the leverage and kept her firmly pinned to the table as she continued to rub herself off on her. Miranda could feel how wet she was, and how hot and sticky Jack felt against her skin was driving her insane as a part of her began to actually wish that she could touch it, touch _her_. She wanted to slide her fingers inside of her and make Jack scream her name, make her scream out how damn _good_ she was and how she’d never been fucked like that before in her life; it would be the perfect revenge, and yet, in that moment, the revenge that was coming to pass certainly wasn’t her own as she was forcefully held down and used as some kind of masturbation tool.

Miranda really wished that it didn’t make her even wetter.

“Perverted bitch,” Jack gasped out as she ground against her even harder, causing her breathing to hitch in her throat and the grip on Miranda’s wrists to tighten. “Spying on us with your little fucking cams… bet it wasn’t even for the Illusive Dick, was it? You just liked watching us get undressed, getting ourselves off at night… I bet you’ve rubbed one out while looking at me naked, haven’t you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Miranda snapped, a rosy hue beginning to flush its way across her chest as her nipples strained against the hard surface she was forced against. Her breathing was coming out in heavy bursts as she felt Jack practically mark her as her property, and she finished, “Even when you’re naked, it’s barely noticeable because you’re covered with all those horrible tattoos.”

“So you have watched me get undressed,” Jack deduced, sounding torn between being angry, turned on, and victorious because of the information. “You’re fucking sick, you know that? There are lists for people like you.”

“Excuse me for doing my _job—_ ”

But suddenly one of her wrists was released, the hand that was previously holding it down wrapping tightly in her hair as Jack lifted her head up, then forced it back down hard against the surface, causing a sharp pain to blow through Miranda’s temple. “ _Fuck_ your job!” she shouted, pressing herself hard against the operative’s body as she leaned down and hissed in her ear. “What you did was _fucked up._ You had no right to go through my shit, none!”

“You’re right,” Miranda gasped out, and the agreement seemed to actual startle Jack as she loosened her grip and pulled back a little. “You have a right to your privacy and I violated that; I’m— I’m sorry. I swear to you, it won’t happen again.”

This was, in no way, how Miranda actually thought that apology would go, but at least she finally did it. She had meant to earlier, but then things just… spiraled out of control, and now look at her; she was half naked and bent over a table, a foul-mouthed fugitive on top of her who, in all honesty, would probably slit her throat as soon as fuck her.

This whole situation was a mess.

“Fuck your apology,” Jack spat and, well, at least she had tried. “Fuck your apology and fuck _you._ Fuck this, and fuck your hot ass, and your perfect fucking tits and your annoying fucking voice and just—shut up! Just _shut the fuck up!_ ”

Two fingers were shoved deep inside of her then, causing a loud moan to rip from the back of Miranda’s throat as her fingernails scraped the surface of the table, her hips slamming back to meet the convict thrust for thrust. Jack took her violently, the whole thing bordering on painful as Miranda shamelessly fucked herself harder against her fingers, silently begging for more as she clenched her inner muscles and then released them, allowing a fresh gush of wetness to coat Jack’s hand.

An animalistic growl escaped Jack’s lips then, before suddenly the hand that had been between her thighs was ripped away, it’s sticky warmth coming to rest on Miranda’s right leg as Jack hoisted it over the table, forcing the operative to give her better access to what she wanted before her mouth suddenly covered her skin. “Fuck,” Miranda panted, not caring in the slightest how wanton she must look as she reached back and spread herself for Jack, needing the woman to devour all of her. “ _Yes…_ ”

“Dirty slut,” Jack cursed between hot, opened mouthed kissed against her cunt, covering her face with Miranda’s desire as she made the woman above her pant and plead. “Think you’re so much better than everyone else, but just fucking _look at you…_ ”

“Shut up,” Miranda gasped, not wanting to hear her insults anymore; they were getting old. Her being a slut had already been established; was she supposed to care? Because she really didn’t right then. “Just shut your damn mouth and fuck me before everyone comes up here for breakfast; we’re taking too long!”

“Fine,” Jack snarled, pulling her face away just enough so she could run her fingers over her folds, coating them with Miranda’s juices just before burying two fingers inside of her, the movement being shortly followed by a thumb that slid easily inside her second hole. 

Miranda nearly choked on her breath as her grip on the edge of the table tightened, causing her knuckles to flash white as a breathy exclamation of praise left her lips in the form of a drawled out, “Oh, _God…_ ” that caused Jack to smirk in satisfaction.

But as the convict pressed against her, using her hips as leverage against her hand, she finished pointedly with, “But only cause I wouldn’t want the rest of the squad to know that I sunk so fucking low as to screw the Cerberus bitch.”

And then she was fucking her so hard that Miranda couldn’t get out a retort, her words becoming trapped in the back of her throat as all she could comprehend to do was swear, cry out, and use her hips to force Jack to go deeper, harder, faster inside of her. Miranda didn’t want to think, she didn’t want to breathe; she just wanted to be fucked over and over until Jack was covered in her desire, marking her as much as the convict had marked her; because fuck her, _fuck her…_

“Fuck me,” Miranda begged, forgetting that she had promised herself that she’d never give Jack the satisfaction, forgetting that anything else even _existed_ beyond what the woman was currently making her feel. “Fuck, Jack— fuck, _fuck!_ ”

“Shut the hell up!” Jack hissed in her ear, wrenching her head to the side by her hair as she pressed her lips against her skin. “You want someone to hear you? Shit—just…” She was rubbing herself off against Miranda’s ass as she fucked her, her breathing becoming ragged and uneven as she got herself closer to the edge. “Just fucking say my name again…!”

“Jack,” Miranda gasped out, consciously keeping herself a little quieter as she reached behind her, scraping her nails over the woman’s scalp as she spread her legs as wide as she could, feeling her orgasm begin to mount in the pit of her abdomen. She felt like she was going insane, but she craved the madness in this far too much to stop, and so she gave the woman atop her everything she wanted and more. “Oh god—Jack, _Jack…_ ”

“Fuck,” Jack swore after her tongue had traced the shell of Miranda’s ear, her fingers twisting deeper inside of her drenched cunt. “I hate that you’re so fucking sexy, I hate that I’m enjoying making you scream; I hate you, I fucking _hate_ you…!”

Miranda had a retort for that, but it was never voiced as suddenly the pleasure overwhelmed her and she cried out, convulsing beneath the convict’s form as she came harder than she had in months; maybe even years. Sweaty and exhausted, Miranda could do nothing else for a while but lay on the table as Jack continued grunting in her ear, trying desperately to get herself off. But the woman was beginning to get frustrated, and once Miranda had gathered up some of her strength she demanded breathlessly, “Get off of me. Get off of me and I’ll finish you, just stop _humping_ me like some damn animal…”

“Fuck you, Cheerleader,” Jack panted out, but got off of her nonetheless, allowing Miranda to turn around and shove her back against the wall before dropping to her knees. Her mouth covered the soft flesh between the other woman’s thighs, and Jack groaned with approval as she raked her fingers through Miranda’s hair, forcing the operative tight up against her dripping center as she bucked her hips against her face and swore.

“Shit, _shit._ I wanna come all over that stupid fucking perfect face of yours, I wanna—! _F-Fuck…_ ”

Miranda wasn’t sure if that was actually supposed to be a compliment or another dig at her genes, but she found either way she really didn’t care, as the taste of Jack was utterly intoxicating. She devoured her like the woman was her last supper, slipping her tongue deep inside of her before wrapping her lips around her clit, sucking and biting and making Jack pant out profanities as she fucked her face with renewed fervor.

And then suddenly a violent shudder ran through her body, and Jack’s knees buckled as she began to slip down the wall. Miranda caught her before she could fall completely against the floor, and it was there that they sat, panting and sweaty and spent as they leaned against one another, both of them wondering what the hell they had just done.

Something like this was bound to have repercussions. 

The first of many came in the form of an email barely two hours after they had parted ways. Miranda was sitting in her office, trying like hell not to think about sex or Jack or anything even remotely resembling the situation she had gotten herself into, when a ping from her terminal informed her that she had a new message. Pressing her fingers to the screen, she allowed the program to open before letting her eyes scan the subject and sender of the email. Her stomach immediately sank in her gut after she had read it, and hurriedly opened the message before scanning the contents. 

_REGARDING THE MESS HALL TABLE  
From: Commander Shepard_

_Miranda,_

_I had asked EDI to keep an eye on you and Jack in case there was another altercation; however she has just informed me that you have come to a ‘reconciliation’ of sorts. While I’m glad that you both seemed to have found the source of your antagonistic behavior towards one another, I am NOT glad that myself and half the squad ate shortly afterwards on the very same table that you decided to use for your little bonding activity. EDI did tell me that you at least cleaned it, but regardless, I am putting in an order for a new table and taking the payment for it out of both yours and Jack’s accounts. In the future, stick to your quarters. That’s an order._

_That being said, while I don’t strictly forbid fraternization between the crew, I do need to know that this won’t become a problem. I have sent a separate email to Jack, and expect the both of you in my quarters at 1300 hours to clear up any concerns I may have._

_And no, I do not give a damn if this is embarrassing for either of you._

_\- Commander Shepard_

Miranda’s head was in her hands by the end of it, a fierce blush beginning to make its way across her cheeks. Generally, Mirada did not have an issue speaking about sex, and was rarely embarrassed about it. She was an adult after all, and what she did in her own time was her business. Shepard, however, had made it very clear that anything that happened while aboard _her_ ship was, in fact, her business as well, and now Miranda was dreading their meeting in a few hours. Not because they were going to talk about her sex life, but because her sex life now apparently included _Jack._

And no matter which way you sliced it, that was something to be embarrassed about, _especially_ if EDI’s big mouth decided to give Shepard the intimate details of their encounter. It was a complete mess of dominance and submission, of pure hatred and raw sexuality. And quite honestly, she was unsure if she even wanted to do it again, which would no doubt be one of the questions Shepard would ask them: if they planned on continuing their little affair. And if they gave different answers, well…

Miranda sighed heavily as she pushed the hair back from her eyes. She still wasn’t sure how this had even happened; it wasn’t as though she looked at Jack before this morning like she was something to be desired. Obviously _yes,_ if you stripped away all that ink that the woman tried to hide behind she was very beautiful – anyone with eyes could see that – but her crappy attitude usually left Miranda with a bad taste in her mouth. She might be intrigued by her on occasion, but she did _not_ like her.

She did, however, enjoy the sex she had with her. It was rare that someone could read her well enough to know what she liked without having to be told. Then again, it may have just been what _Jack_ liked, and their preferences seemed to coincide. Regardless, it was… it was _good._

But Miranda wasn’t sure that continuing it would be the best idea. She usually fucked faceless, nameless strangers for a reason; it was efficient and to the point, and didn’t leave a mess behind. And this? This had the makings of becoming the biggest mess Miranda had ever made of her personal life. The two of them were confined to a ship filled with a plethora of other people that Miranda, in no way, wanted informed of her bedroom activities. She needed to command respect aboard this vessel, and everyone finding out that she enjoyed being bent over and fucked like a cheap whore was not conducive to that goal.

Damnit, she didn’t know what to do; and the worst part of it all, was that she only had a few short hours before she was forced to decide on what it was that she wanted. 

It just wasn’t enough time.

**TBC…**


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, considering I’m currently halfway through writing chapter nine, I’m going to increase the update rate of this fic to twice a week, and I’ll have chapter four out for you guys on Wednesday. Apparently I ship these two idiots way too hard because I’m writing a _lot_ faster than I normally do, lol.

**III.**

When Miranda arrived in Shepard’s cabin, Jack was already there. She was propped up against the small surface that jutted out from the Commander’s aquarium, her back against the wall and one knee raised towards the ceiling as she looked inquisitively at the fish that were swimming through the water. Miranda stopped to stare at her, watching the woman tap on the glass lightly with her knuckle, trying to get one of the fish’s attention. It ignored her, just like Jack was apparently ignoring Miranda’s presence in the room. She hadn’t even spared her a glance when she had arrived, like she was utterly inconsequential in comparison to those damn fish.

And to be quite honest, it was fairly irritating, given what it was that they had done earlier that morning. Certainly she warranted more attention than a Thessian sunfish.

“Miranda,” Shepard greeted from her desk, swiveling her chair around so she could properly address her, causing the operative’s attention to be redirected. “Nice of you to finally join us.”

“I apologize for my tardiness, Commander,” Miranda responded, even though in the back of her mind she thought the that word ‘finally’ was a little overdramatic when she was only five minutes late. She clasped her hands behind her back and stood at attention, at least trying to bring some professionalism into what would no doubt be a rather embarrassing conversation. “I was going over some last minute reports and lost track of time.”

“Hey, you think I could get one of those?” Jack asked suddenly, looking towards Shepard who raised an eyebrow at the unexpected question.

“What, a fish?” 

“Yeah. They seem cool,” Jack responded with a shrug, looking back at the aquarium, apparently not phased at all over the personal topic that was about to be discussed in length. “They just swim around, not giving a fuck about anything; I can relate.”

“You want a _fish?_ ” Miranda asked disbelievingly, never really picturing Jack as the type who would want a pet. And even if she did, Miranda had always figured that she’d rather have something dangerous; something that was loyal, but could rip out the throats of her enemies if she ordered it to. But a _fish?_ Fish were bloody boring. Wasn’t Jack too… abstract, for something as dull as that?

“Yeah, Cheerleader,” Jack responded, all attitude and glare as she finally looked at Miranda for the first time since she entered the room. “I want a damn fish. You got something to say about that?”

“No, I—” Damn her. Why did she always have to be so antagonistic? She was just trying to have a conversation. Although honestly, why Miranda was even bothering, she really had no idea. “I just didn’t picture you as the type, is all.”

“The fuck would you know about what type of person I am?” Jack countered, actually looking a little offended that Miranda would ever assume that she did. “Last I checked, licking someone’s cunt doesn’t automatically mean that you fucking know them.”

Miranda’s eyes flashed in irritation at Jack’s blatant revelation of any kind of details of their encounter to their commanding officer, but she steeled her jaw, choosing not to speak. She really didn’t want to get into this right now; it wasn’t worth it.

“Jack, get yourself a fish if you want; I really don’t care,” Shepard interrupted, garnering both women’s attention. “But cool the attitude. You’re not the only one in an uncomfortable situation right now, so try to tone down the defensiveness a couple notches.”

Jack rolled her eyes at that, but said nothing in response as she crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. _Great, this was shaping up to be a pleasant conversation,_ Miranda thought dryly as she leaned against the far wall, waiting for her Commander to speak again and get this over with.

“Alright,” Shepard began, settling back in her chair as she looked at her two subordinates. “Now, you both want to tell me what exactly is going on between you two?”

“We fucked.”

“Yes, thank you, Jack; but I was aware of that already,” Shepard responded dryly, shooting the woman on the ledge an exasperated look. “I was actually looking for a little more substance in your answer.”

“That’s the extent of our relationship, Commander,” Miranda responded, trying to keep her tone neutral as she detached herself from the situation. As far as she was concerned, right now was just another routine debriefing. “And I find it unlikely that it will progress into anything more than that.”

“More than what’s already happened, or more than just casual sex?”

“I don’t… know, Commander,” Miranda admitted, shifting the weight between her feet. This was the question she was dreading, and she still didn’t have an answer for her. “We haven’t exactly discussed it.”

“Why the hell does this even matter?” Jack countered, her defensiveness back in full swing as lines of irritation mapped her face. “I fucked her, big deal. I’ve fucked a lot of people; didn’t need to hold hands and talk about our fucking feelings afterwards. This is stupid.”

“This matters because you are now aboard a military vessel, and anything you do that could jeopardize this mission can and will be put under scrutiny,” Shepard responded, a hardness in her tone as she stared down her subordinate. “Sex complicates things; it’s not only distracting and clouds judgment, but it bears the risk of bringing unnecessary drama aboard this ship. And correct me if I’m wrong, but you both seem to already have an abundance of that as it is.”

Jack rolled her eyes, but didn’t counter that assessment, as there was no point arguing against the obvious. “Whatever,” she dismissed, hopping off the ledge as she gestured at Miranda. “The Cerberus bitch might look good naked, but that doesn’t mean I’m looking for her to warm my bed every night. This isn’t gonna become a thing, so can I go now?”

“You can leave when you are _dismissed,_ ” Shepard responded, her tone a little testy at Jack’s unwillingness to just have this conversation like an adult. Miranda could relate to the feeling; the woman was making this unnecessarily harder. “Until then, get comfortable. I’m not finished.”

Jack plopped back down on the ledge, scowling.

“To be honest, I don’t give a damn how you guys settle your issues with one another,” Shepard continued, her gaze resting on the two squad mates. “So long as they’re settled. I had assumed what had happened between you both might have rectified the situation, but something’s telling me I was wrong about that.”

Both women glanced at one another, but kept themselves silent. Miranda wasn’t quite sure what her commander was looking for here; confirmation that they still disliked one another? Because Jack was making that fairly obvious already. And it wasn’t as though Miranda disagreed, but it was just… a little more complicated than that. She hadn’t exactly had much time to process what she felt about this whole situation, and she found it a little unfair that Shepard was demanding answers from them when she hadn’t even had time to speak to Jack first. She understood that it was procedure, but that didn’t mean that she had to like it.

“No input?”

Miranda exhaled a long breath. “I’m not really sure what you’re looking for right now, Shepard. Things between Jack and myself are… complicated. That’s all I can tell you for certain, and I don’t want to give you any reports that are inaccurate.”

“Fine,” Shepard relented, rubbing her temples a little as she sat up straighter. “Just assure me that this isn’t going to cause a problem, and we’ll leave it alone. That means no drama, no physical violence, and definitely no ‘stress relief’ in the public areas of the ship; keep it confined to your quarters. Other than that, do whatever the hell you want.”

“However,” Shepard continued before either of them could speak, her gaze resting on both of the women in turn. “If any the above does happen, or if I feel as though your judgment is being impaired by your relationship with one another, then I will have to reevaluate my stance. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Whatever.”

Miranda chanced a glance at Jack, who had apparently lost interest in this conversation and was now back to playing with the fish. To be honest she was still a little irritated that she was practically being ignored unless she spoke directly to her; in some screwed up way, it actually bruised her ego. Which was ridiculous seeing as she really shouldn’t care about obtaining the attention of some tattooed convict with a bad attitude and yet, unfathomably, she did. Sex was something Miranda was _very_ good at, and she prided herself on making people practically fall all over themselves to get back into bed with her; which she rarely allowed, as she was usually a one off sort of person, but still, it was the principle of the matter.

Honestly, she could be a part of the bloody wall, for how much Jack was taking notice of her.

But Miranda pushed that aside, focusing on more important matters as she addressed, “Commander? I have… a concern of my own.”

“What is it?”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Miranda momentarily glanced at EDI’s console before asking Shepard, “Is anyone else aware of what happened between Jack and myself? Other than you and EDI, that is.”

Jack scoffed, turning away from the fish to ask, “What? You ashamed of me now, Cheerleader? Maybe you should try closing your whore legs then, if you’ve got such a fucking issue with the people you sleep with.”

“Alright, that is _enough,_ ” Miranda snapped, rounding on her in a wave of aggravation. There was only so much of this crap that she could take, and after the mess that was this morning, her patience for Jack’s bullshit was running thin. “You’re being a bitch for no other purpose than to antagonize me, and I’m tired of it. You said yourself that you didn’t want people to know that you had… what was the charming phrase you used? Oh yes, ‘sunk so low as to screw the Cerberus bitch,’ so I don’t want to hear your snarky comments about me being ashamed of you, because you don’t want this getting out any more than I do. Whatever your problem is with me, Jack, get over it. I apologized to you already, and so as far as I’m concerned, this is over.”

Jack jumped off the ledge, advancing on her as she pointed angrily in her face. “That apology was _bullshit!_ ”

“Don’t stand there and tell me what _my_ intentions were—”

“I had you pinned and naked and _dripping_ before I slammed your fucking head into the table, of course you were gonna tell me anything I wanted to hear!”

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose, looking as though she were trying to fight the onset of a headache. Miranda could relate; this was absolutely ridiculous. “That was far more than I ever needed to know, and _exactly_ what I was talking about when I mentioned drama,” the commander snapped. “This is ending, one way or another. And if you both can’t resolve it yourselves, then I’ll be forced to order a joint counseling session with Yeoman Chambers, because I will not—”

“I’m not talking to a fucking shrink about this bitch!”

“Then figure this out between yourselves; and _quickly,_ because my patience is running out. You’re both acting like children, and I am not paid to babysit you.”

Miranda’s jaw dropped in offense at that, because while _Jack_ might be acting childishly, she certainly was not. She would much rather speak about this like adults, but it wasn’t as though Jack was giving her ample opportunity. 

“You want this settled? Then I want a _real_ apology from the bitch, and a goddamn fucking reason of why she was going through my shit!” Jack shouted, and wow, she really wasn’t going to get over that any time soon, was she? But in the end, perhaps Miranda should have expected it; Jack’s poems were… they were deeply personal. It was doubtful she ever wanted anyone to know that side of her.

Miranda went to respond, but Jack cut her off before she could even say a word. “And the _real_ reason, not whatever bullshit line you fed Shepard to get your ass out of trouble.”

Shepard raised her eyebrow at this, suddenly looking a little more interested in this as she swiveled her chair to face Miranda, who was standing stock still against the wall and clenching her jaw. Shepard had already known that she lied to her, having come to the inane conclusion that she snooped through her things because she wanted to ‘get to know’ Jack, but Miranda still hadn’t admitted out loud that she had deceived her. 

Miranda noticeably hesitated before her reply, not entirely certain that the truth would go over any better than a lie. But she didn’t want her issues with Jack disrupting the crew, their mission, and more importantly, her own life, and so Miranda bit the bullet and finally admitted, “Despite my effort to ignore it, I’ve… seemed to have taken a strange interest in you. You intrigue me.”

“Big fucking deal,” Jack shot back. “I intrigue a lot of people; comes with the tattoos and the attitude. Still doesn’t mean that your stupid little crush gives you the right to go through my shit! You’d think Daddy would have programed some common fucking decency in there, but I guess he was too busy working on your tits and ass instead.” 

“Watch it, Jack,” Shepard warned, her voice dropping to a dangerous decibel. She knew what a sore spot that was for Miranda, but the problem was, so did Jack—and that was exactly why she used it. In the end though, Miranda was used to it; she had gotten resentment and hateful comments all of her life from people who either didn’t like her or were jealous of her, and after a while she had just become rather numb to it. Crying over those things just wasn’t worth her effort anymore.

“First of all, I do not have a crush on you,” Miranda responded, her voice starting to get a little more heated. “I can barely stand you; you’re rude, foul-mouthed, and an embarrassment to yourself. Secondly, it certainly wasn’t about your tattoos or your attitude either which, quite frankly, leaves a lot of room for improvement. I was just curious as to what someone like you was always writing down and _yes,_ I am more than aware that it was a shitty, selfish thing to do. The stuff in there was deeply personal and I am _sorry_ , Jack, for taking the comfort of your privacy away from you; I actually, legitimately, feel terrible about that.”

Which in the end bothered her more than anything else, because she wasn’t used to caring about anyone’s feelings other than her own. That implied something Miranda did not want to entertain however, and so she brushed it aside and kept her mouth shut. All Jack needed to know right now was that she had intrigued her, she was curious, and that she was _sorry._ All that stuff about possibly finding someone to relate to was better left kept to herself, because in all honesty, she was still unsure that she even wanted to be around someone who had the potential to understand her. That seemed emotionally dangerous.

Jack had crossed her arms over her chest and steeled her jaw as she listened to Miranda’s apology, giving nothing away in her expression outside of this little glimmer in her eye. But she blinked and suddenly it was gone, a scowl crossing the woman’s face as she responded with a dismissive, “Whatever. But if you fucking tell _anyone_ about what you read in there—”

“I won’t,” Miranda assured her, voice suddenly becoming a little softer. “You have my word.”

Shepard looked at them both, her eyebrows rising momentarily as she paused, maybe waiting to see if that was truly the end of it. It was; or, at least, Miranda hoped that it was. “Is that it then?” the commander asked expectantly, already assuming that it was. Miranda nodded and Jack just waved her hand dismissively, which was apparently enough for Shepard. “Good. I don’t want to hear about this again. We’ve got much bigger issues to deal with than some childish feud, so everyone put their big girl panties on and focus on what’s actually important, alright? That’s an order.”

Jack just scoffed, while Miranda clasped her hands behind her back and muttered a resigned, “Yes, Commander.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

But Miranda held up her finger, absolutely not finished with this yet, and implored, “Commander, there’s still—”

“Oh, right,” Shepard amended, remembering that Miranda had asked something of her. Leaning back in her chair and looking up at the ceiling, as one usually would when talking to a disembodied voice, Shepard called out, “EDI?”

The AI responded immediately. “Yes, Commander Shepard?”

“I need to know if anyone else is aware of in the incident that happened in the mess hall this morning, or if there have been any rumors.”

“No, Commander. Outside you, myself, the participants, and Joker, no one has—”

“ _Joker_ knows?” Miranda interrupted, a look of furious disbelief etching over her face. Damn him, he _knew_ she was going to speak with Jack this morning; no doubt he got curious about what. He probably even asked EDI for the details of it; that nosy little—

“I thought I told you not to mention it to anyone,” Shepard chastised, her eyes narrowing.

“Yes, but that was after Joker had asked for the audio files. I have not mentioned it to anyone since, per your request.”

“He listened to the fucking _audio_ files?” Jack raged, suddenly very much in the conversation as she pushed herself off the wall, her eyes flashing in anger. Apparently him knowing was one thing, but actually _listening…_ “That perverted little shit stain, I’ll fucking—”

“However, I told him that it would be inappropriate, and temporarily denied his request until I had authorization from the Commander, which I did not receive.”

“—Oh,” Jack finished, cutting herself off mid-rant as Miranda exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, relieved that this wasn’t as terrible as they thought it would be. “Well,” Jack scrunched up her face, apparently finding something odd in being grateful towards an AI as she begrudgingly mumbled, “…Thanks.”

“You are welcome, Jack,” EDI answered, her voice echoing through the commander’s cabin. “Although I am afraid that your gratitude may be short lived, as I did give him a brief overview of the events instead. I believed that would be more appropriate; at least until the Commander asked for my complete silence on the matter, which I have complied with.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Shepard assured the two women before they could say anything. “This won’t go anywhere else.” Turning her attention back to the AI, Shepard said, “Thank you, EDI.”

“You are welcome, Commander. I will be here if you need me.”

Soon afterwards they departed the Commander’s cabin, and as Jack forcefully hit the button to call the elevator, Miranda crossed her arms over her chest and asked, “Jack, can we talk?” They may have settled their dispute over the convict’s right to privacy, but there were still a few things left unsettled that Miranda would rather discuss sooner than later.

“Look,” Jack began, rounding on her as a look of irritation crossed over her face. “I might be stupid enough to believe that pointless fucking apology of yours, but that doesn’t mean we’re square. An eye for an eye, princess; _then_ I’ll put that shit behind me, alright? So just wait it out.”

“What do you mean?” Miranda asked warily, not exactly sure what Jack was getting at, although certain that she didn’t like the implication of it.

“I _mean_ that I am going to go out of my way to find something out about you that you don’t want anyone to know,” Jack explained, and despite the bitterness behind such an appropriate act of vengeance, she didn’t exactly seem angry about it; more like she was explaining to Miranda the rules of how things worked in her own little world. “Then I’m gonna throw it in your face. And when you’re sufficiently fucking embarrassed enough, _then_ we’ll be even.”

Miranda exhaled an exasperated breath. “That’s childish—”

“No, Lawson; that’s the way of the fucking world.”

The elevator dinged and opened, and as Jack stepped inside, Miranda found herself hesitating for a moment as she replayed that last sentence over in her head. That was the closest Jack had ever come to actually calling her by her name, and it was… strange. 

But then Jack snapped, “You coming or not?” and Miranda pushed that aside as she stepped into the elevator, knowing it was probably foolish to dwell on something so utterly inconsequential anyhow. It was doubtful that it even meant anything, and even if it did, Miranda was sure she didn’t want to know what it was. She had enough to sort through at the moment.

The door closed behind her, and as the elevator began to make its slow decent upwards, Miranda leaned against the side opposite of Jack and apologized tentatively, “I’m… sorry, that what I did embarrassed you.” 

She hadn’t actually thought of it that way, but of course it had; why wouldn’t it? Jack seemed to work very hard at projecting this image of a biotic badass with this don’t-give-a-fuck attitude, that Miranda shattering that façade by reading her creative expression of her most intimate thoughts and feelings would, of course, be humiliating for the other woman. That obviously wasn’t a part of Jack that she ever wanted other people to see.

Jack wouldn’t look at her. “Fuck yourself, Cheerleader. I’m over it.”

Obviously not, as she was intent on paying her back for it in kind, which didn’t exactly sit well with Miranda. She had plenty of secrets; not many that would embarrass her per say, but regardless…

Miranda sighed heavily, wrapping her arms around her midsection as she continued to look at the woman on the other side of the elevator. Jack was going out of her way to ignore her, as surely she could see Miranda looking at her out of her peripheral, and yet instead the woman chose to stare at the little lit up buttons of the elevator, no doubt silently cursing it to go faster. It finally dinged though, indicating the arrival to engineering, and Jack pushed herself off the wall and headed towards the door.

But as it was opening, Jack, with her back turned towards Miranda, asked her flatly, “We done here?”

It was her tone that made Miranda realize what it was that she was really asking. It took her by surprise, because she hadn’t thought Jack had wanted to broach that conversation, which was why Miranda decided to keep quiet about it for now. The woman was obviously in no mood to discuss what had happened between them and if there was a chance of it happening again; not after just basically admitting that what Miranda had done the other day embarrassed her. But in the end, that was it, wasn’t it? Jack’s question wasn’t posed like she was looking to discuss it; she just wanted a flat out answer. 

And Miranda didn’t know which one to give her.

Jack’s hand slammed on one of the buttons, closing the doors again yet keeping the elevator at its current floor as she whipped around to face her. “Fucking answer me.”

But she couldn’t. Miranda had a very long list of why they should never do what they did again; the repercussions with the mission, the crew, how it would be a distraction and how she wasn’t comfortable having ties to someone, even if it was just sexual. Yet when she thought about what Jack had done to her that morning her breathing shallowed and a fresh wave of arousal dampened her panties. It was _good,_ but was it worth the headache of doing something like this with Jack? Was it worth all the drama? Anyone with half a brain would have probably said no, but most of Miranda’s had checked out once she had allowed her gaze to run down the convict’s form, mapping every dip, every curve, and somehow finding the woman’s body attractive enough to actually weigh it up evenly against the wellbeing of her sanity.

Jack, apparently having reached the conclusion that Miranda wasn’t going to answer her any time soon, just sneered, _“Fine,”_ as suddenly her hand was on the operative’s chest, forcefully pushing and pinning her up against the elevator wall. Miranda’s breath left her just as Jack covered her lips with her own, kissing her angrily, possessively, as the hand that was on her chest slid upwards to wrap around her neck. He grip was firm, meant to dominate but not to restrict her airway, and Miranda heard herself exhale an involuntary whimper as she naturally succumbed to the convict’s hold on her, finding that she had such an incredible weakness for being taken without precedence. 

But it was over far too soon. Jack stepped back before she forcefully shoved her, suddenly looking pissed off beyond belief for reasons Miranda didn’t understand, as she informed her harshly, “ _Now,_ we’re done.”

Miranda’s expression clouded over, a fierce anger arising in her gut as she stared at Jack in disbelief. If Jack was so intent on ending things between them, then what the fuck was that? 

“Get the hell away from me,” she snapped, furious that Jack had gotten to her; that she foolishly allowed the woman to purposely mess with her head. But then wouldn’t Jack look more victorious? Why the hell was she looking at Miranda like _she_ had done something wrong?

“Gladly, bitch.”

But as she turned towards the door, suddenly she stopped short, and Miranda finally allowed her eyes to look past Jack and to the elevator doors that were, unfortunately, wide open. Samara stood there patiently, her expression passive and holding no indication that anything she just witnessed was out of the ordinary. She was just… waiting.

Jack looked at her for a long moment before muttering, “Screw this,” and storming past her and around the corner, of course leaving Miranda to clean up the mess that _she_ had made. She was the one who had kissed her in this damn elevator, she was the one who—

Samara stepped inside, still completely silent as Miranda fought the urge to flush in embarrassment. She was an adult, she made her own choices – no matter how questionable they might be at times – and that was nothing to be ashamed of. And yet still, the thought of everyone knowing filled her with such a profound feeling of dread that when she pressed the button to close the door, Miranda requested quietly, “I would appreciate it if you… didn’t repeat to anyone what you just saw.”

If it was anyone else, she probably would have been more forceful; been more intimidating, pulled rank or used some other tactic to force their silence, but with Samara, she found she couldn’t do that. The asari was such a dominating force, that it was like everything else around her just shrunk down and faded away in the wake of her presence. 

“If that is what you wish,” Samara responded, neither looking curious nor asking for any details as to why she was kissing Jack, of _all_ people, inside of the ship’s elevator. She seemed to just accept it as something that happened, and that was that. But perhaps after a thousand years of life, nothing surprised her anymore.

“Thank you,” Miranda breathed, trusting in the Justicar’s silence without question. Samara just nodded in acknowledgement, understanding how important discretion was to her in regards to this subject, and that was the end of it.

[x]

Twelve hours of shore leave.

To be honest, Miranda wasn’t surprised when the Commander had suggested it. After taking down the Shadow Broker and reconnecting with Liara, Miranda understood why Shepard ordered that they all take a short break. It would just be overnight, she reasoned, and they all deserved a little R&R before they undertook the mission to recover the Reaper IFF. In reality, she just wanted to fuck her mate for what could quite possibly be the last time, and Miranda didn’t blame her one bit. 

If she were being honest with herself, a part of her was actually jealous. She had always wondered what it would be like to have someone; to have someone to love, to come back to. It had never really seemed important to her before, but as the end grew closer, Miranda had to wonder if she had really lived her life to its fullest. Would it have been better, if she had experienced what it was to love? People rave about it just as much as they curse its existence and yet even still, it’s coveted all the same. Miranda couldn’t understand it, had never even had the desire to before, but now… now she wondered, now she questioned.

In the end though, Miranda supposed a suicide mission was bound to do that to a person; when there’s a high probability that you’re going to die, you tend to look at how you lived before. 

“Jack, please don’t—please don’t touch that!” Liara exclaimed, sounding a little panicked once she noticed the convict over by one of the Shadow Broker’s terminals. “It’s just—this is all very… _new,_ and I wouldn’t want any data to be misplaced. This is all so overwhelming as it is.”

“You’ll do fine, Liara,” Shepard assured her, clasping a hand on the asari’s shoulder and giving her a reassuring smile, before turning to focus her attention on the curious woman hunched over one of the terminals. “ _Jack._ ”

Jack held up her hands in a gesture of innocence. “Shit, Shep, I’m not touching anything; chill out. I was just looking.”

“Look all you want, just keep your hands to yourself,” Shepard ordered, which just caused Jack to roll her eyes and go back to whatever it was that she was reading. “And you’ve got five minutes; then I want you headed back to the ship with Miranda.”

“You’re not coming back with us?” Miranda asked, eyebrows rising. She had thought that she would be spending her shore leave on Illum with Liara; it was a much nicer place than this dungy hole. 

“Liara needs some help sorting all of this out,” Shepard told her, wrapping her arm around her girlfriend’s waist, who smiled fondly at the Commander. “So for the next twelve hours, you’re in charge. Dock wherever you want, but be sure to be back here on time; we’re hitting the derelict Reaper first thing, and then from there…”

Yeah. From there they go through the Relay, and the likelihood of them coming back from it was not good.

Miranda exhaled a long breath, but nodded her compliance.

Shepard glanced over at Jack, who was still hunched over one of the Shadow Broker’s terminals reading intently, before allowing her eyes to land back on Miranda. “You two going to be alright?” she asked, and with the tone she used, Miranda couldn’t be sure if Shepard was concerned about _them,_ or the fact that without supervision, they were liable to tear everything to pieces. Quite possibly a bit of both.

“We haven’t spoken in nearly two weeks,” Miranda admitted, keeping her tone rather detached and factual. “She ignores my presence completely, so I would say that yes, so long as that continues, we should be fine. Believe me, we have put our differences behind us, Commander; you have nothing to worry about while you’re gone.”

Miranda was still unsure of what she had done that had upset Jack in the elevator, but perhaps it was just that she was trying to push her away before Miranda could do the same to her. Whoever walked away had the power, and that was apparently something Jack needed. In a way, Miranda was glad; Jack walking away eradicated so much possible drama from her life, and left her without any distractions. And yet still, no matter how much she tried to rationalize that it was by far the best decision they could have come to, something about it just… _bothered_ Miranda. 

Which in turn bothered her even more, because there was absolutely no reason why she should even be bothered about it in the first place. It was just sex, which was easily attainable anywhere. Maybe it was because she was around Jack constantly that she was still concerning herself over it; after all, it was very rare that she ever saw her one night stands again, let alone every single day. Perhaps it would just take some time to get used to it, because as good as Jack might be in bed, she definitely wasn’t good enough to be invading an inordinate amount of Miranda’s thoughts ever since.

“Alright, just checking to see if I could expect the Normandy back in one piece or not,” Shepard joked, cracking a smile. Miranda feigned one in return, but she didn’t feel it; whether she liked it or not, the situation with Jack still made her uncomfortable. 

But then again, come a few days, they could all be dead and none of this would even matter anymore.

“Jack!” Shepard called to the woman on the other side of the room. “Let’s get a move on!”

“Christ, I’m coming; keep your fucking panties on,” Jack muttered irritably as she finally turned away from the terminal. She breezed right past them, not even sparing Miranda a glance, to which the XO turned to Shepard and shot her a look like, _see?_

Shepard just shrugged. In the end, so long as they weren’t tearing each other apart or fucking in the public areas of the Normandy, she seemed to care less what happened between them. Miranda wished she had the same mindset, but being completely ignored just… _bothered_ her. Immensely so, but what could she do? It wasn’t worth bringing up, to make everything between Jack and her fall back to square one. This was just… better. It was better; it had to be.

She really needed to stop obsessing over it; if being ignored was her issue, Miranda had a dozen or so emails from nameless, faceless strangers on nearly every colonized planet in the Traverse who wanted her attention. Perhaps when they docked she should respond to one; it had been awhile, and maybe a good fuck was all that she needed to put her last one behind her.

“Enjoy your shore leave, Miranda,” Shepard said as the operative began to depart. “This might be the last one we ever have.”

Yeah, and unlike the Commander, she would most likely be spending it getting drilled into a wall by someone who would rather look at her tits than her face. Maybe she should have spent more time in her life looking for love, for someone who cared, but in the end it didn’t really matter, as it was far too late now.

**TBC…**


	4. IV

**IV.**

They docked at Illium, and as everyone filtered out of the ship to enjoy what very well may be their last leave, Miranda stayed behind for a moment while she browsed her messages on iPartner Connections, hoping that there would be at least someone halfway decent enough to take her mind off of what was to come. Perhaps it was sad, that this was the only thing she really had when it came to finding a ‘connection’ with another human being, but it was far too late to live her life any differently now. She had made her choices, and in the end it was better for some nameless person to warm her bed tonight, than for her to be completely alone.

Perhaps if she had actually had the courage to talk to her sister after the last time they visited Illium, she would be able to spend her last shore leave doing something that actually _meant_ something to her, but at the time, Miranda had been too afraid to get directly involved. She didn’t want to subject Oriana to any unnecessary risks, and so she forced herself to walk away from the only family she really had left. At the time, it felt like the right decision, but now…

Now she had regrets. 

Miranda forced the thoughts from her mind however, reminding herself that she had made her choice, and that in the end, not having contact with her sister was probably the safest thing for her. Still, Miranda wished that she was spending her last shore leave with her, and not looking for some stranger to fuck just to ensure that she has one last orgasm before the end comes. It painted a very meaningless picture of her personal life, but there was nothing to be done about that now.

Turning back to her email, Miranda scanned the contents. At first glance however, no one that had contacted her on Illium even looked appealing. It was mostly men, and while Miranda enjoyed them as much as she did women, at the moment that wasn’t at all what she was looking for; perhaps she was just desperate to replace Jack as the last woman she slept with though, as she was sick of remembering what it was like. Unfortunately, the only woman that had contacted her seemed rather timid and shy, and that wasn’t what Miranda wanted either. The operative sighed heavily as she resigned herself to give the men another look, as in the end it would be better to have one of them than nobody at all, when her terminal beeped, indicating the arrival of a new message.

CONTROLFREAK_69. Juvenile, Miranda snorted, and yet it was a woman, and so she decided to open up the email anyway; it wouldn’t hurt to look. There was no message, no word of greeting; just a pending document that was waiting to be downloaded labeled “Medical.” Miranda raised her eyebrows in surprise, as it wasn’t often that people just got right to the point of it, and as that was something she preferred, she clicked on it and allowed it to download.

Everything seemed to be in order there, outside of the name being blacked out, but before she answered the woman, Miranda clicked on her profile to double check that the woman was even attractive enough for her standards. Like her own picture, the woman’s didn’t include her face, but the under bust corset accented her full breasts quite well, and Miranda felt her stomach twist in excitement as her gaze took in the riding crop that was pressed between her cleavage. _Well._

_Looks clean,_ she typed back, to which the woman responded with, _It is. Your turn._

Rarely anyone asked for any in return, as apparently most of the general populous didn’t care who they were getting into bed with, just so long that they did, and so Miranda was glad that this person seemed to be as health-conscience as herself as she quickly uploaded her own medical records. There was a long pause as the woman no doubt read it over, before she got another message. _Illiuminate Gardens, Room 12G, one hour. Come in a tight dress with no panties, or don’t bother coming at all._

And then the stranger disconnected.

Miranda was left sitting at her desk, her eyebrows having risen halfway up her forehead. Usually, it was she who directed when and where, but with a name like CONTROLFREAK, maybe she should have expected it. In the end though, it really was a turn on; to be told what to do. It wasn’t something she got from most people on this site, as Miranda did not reveal her preference for it out of concern for her own personal safety. Say that you want to be dominated, and suddenly sadistic people with no idea of the true meaning of dominance will use that as an excuse to physically hurt you, or outright rape you. Perhaps she just watched the news too much that it had gotten her slightly paranoid in that regard, but Miranda would much rather be safe than sorry.

As a whole though, women were far more trustworthy to not take things too far, and so without much forethought Miranda was off her seat in a flash, rummaging through her closet in order to find something that fit the bill of the mysterious woman’s request.

[x]

As Miranda approached the door of the hotel room, her heels clacked loudly against the marble flooring. She was wearing a skin tight dress that only barely covered her assets and, as requested, nothing underneath. Not wishing to garner the attention of everyone she walked by however, she wore a trench coat over it that fell about mid-thigh; she wasn’t exactly one to be overly risqué in public, after all. Her business was her own, and she did not want others assuming the nature of her visit to this upscale hotel which, Miranda admitted, she was impressed by. She did not expect someone to spring for something like this when it was only for an encounter that would, at most, last only a few hours.

When she knocked on the door however, she received no answer. Instead, after a long moment, she was buzzed in without a word, allowing Miranda to enter the suite of her own accord. One eyebrow rising as she closed the door behind her, she took note of the silence that greeted her. Intrigued by how this was going to play out, Miranda allowed her coat to slide off her shoulders before she let it rest on one of the hooks near the door. Then she followed the small hallway around to the large open area that seemed to be a duel bedroom/living area in one… and completely stopped short once her eyes rested on the woman on the couch.

Jack had one leg propped up on the glass coffee table, her elbow resting on her knee as she smirked around the thumbnail she was idly chewing on. “You better not be wearing any panties, princess, otherwise you can turn around and walk right out the fucking door.”

“You…” Miranda began, her stomach beginning to twist in anger, humiliation, and complete and utter disbelief as she stared at the last person she ever expected to see. Her voice dropping to a dangerous decibel, allowing her fury to win out in the end, Miranda repeated angrily, “ _You._ ”

It was all she could get out. Many other questions invaded her mind, but they were all overlapping and laced with confusion and anger and hatred as she stared at the convict across from her, who looked positively victorious with the result of her little game.

“Your tits look banging in your profile pic by the way; made them the background of my omni-tool holo,” Jack told her, her tone conversational and light so as to purposely infuriate the other woman in the room. “Kinda sucks that every time I turn the thing on though, anyone else that’s around me can see them too, but fuck it, right? Not like they have your name on them or anything.”

Miranda slammed her purse on the table as her gaze shot up to connect with Jack’s. She didn’t believe her in the slightest about the omni-tool screen; it sounded far more like she was just trying to get a rise out of her than anything else. “What the hell is this?” she demanded furiously. “How did you even _find_ me on there? I use a layer of proxies for a bloody reason.”

“Pretty sure the Shadow Broker pisses on your little proxies, Cheerleader.”

Fuck. _Fuck._ That’s what Jack had been looking at while on the Shadow Broker base; of course the old one would’ve been able to bypass things like that, and would have detailed files of anyone aboard the Normandy. They were kicking up quite the storm lately, and were bound to draw attention to themselves. 

_Damnit,_ why the hell hadn’t she been paying attention to what Jack was doing? The woman had warned her that she would find out a secret of hers and use it against her, but it had been two weeks since then and Miranda just… she honestly didn’t believe Jack would ever be able to find anything on her anyway; the woman wasn’t exactly tech-savvy. Still, if those files had already been pulled up…

“So what, you got my username off of there and decided this would be the perfect way to enact your little revenge?” Miranda snapped, placing her hands on her hips as she stared the other woman down, who still looked far too laid back and relaxed for it not to irritate the operative beyond belief. “Well congratulations then, you win; are you _satisfied_ yet?”

Jack’s tongue ran along the length of her teeth, looking far too pleased with herself right now. “Lift up that dress and I’ll let you know.”

“Oh, fuck _you,_ ” Miranda seethed, not about to give Jack the satisfaction of knowing that she had obeyed her little request and had come here without anything on underneath. “I really hope you’re happy about this, because this was our _last—_ ” What, their last shore leave, and her last chance to fuck some stranger who clearly didn’t mean a damn to her? That sounded too pathetic to even voice, and so Miranda quickly changed topics. “Damnit, those weren’t even your medical records! _Or_ your picture—”

“Observant.”

Miranda resisted the urge to throw something at her.

“The picture I understand,” she continued, needing to know how Jack actually managed to pull something like this off; because fucking hell, she should have seen it, she should have known. She felt stupid for walking into this blind. “You could have gotten that from anywhere—”

“Some porn site,” Jack answered, before a slow smirk crossed her face. “Knew that riding crop would get to you; you’re way too fucking easy sometimes.”

Miranda chose to ignore that. “But where the hell did you get those medical records, because stuff like that is _private,_ Jack, and isn’t supposed to be available to just anyone—”

“Might want to tell that to Dr. Chakwas that then,” Jack interrupted. “Maybe then she won’t keep them all in a file cabinet that’s lock isn’t embarrassingly easy to pick. Seriously, I was in and out of there in thirty seconds flat; it was a fucking joke.”

Of course she broke into Dr. Chakwas’ file cabinet; why was she surprised? “Once again, you’ve proven what an exemplary human being you are,” Miranda responded flatly. “Who’s even _were_ they?” Because she had looked at all of the crew’s herself, and she would have recognized the record, if that was the case.

“Fuck should I know? Probably some old patient of hers or something,” Jack responded, shrugging. “Whatever. Only thing I care about was that it actually worked, ‘cause shit, the look on your face when you saw that it was me was so fucking worth all the creds I paid for this fancy ass room.” 

“You mean you didn’t break in?” Miranda shot back, one eyebrow rising. “Shocking.”

“Thought about it,” Jack admitted, her foot that was resting on the table suddenly coming to land on the floor as she placed her elbows on her knees and leaned forward, shrugging lightly. “But screw it; not gonna need money when I’m dead, right?”

That brutal reminder caused Miranda to exhale a long, hard breath as she turned away from her, and crossed the room to look out one of the large windows. What was the point of even getting angry about this? They had maybe eight hours left of their shore leave, and she didn’t want to spend them screaming at the other woman about not being able to get laid for the last time. That was just—it was pointless. And recognizing that made Miranda feel sort of defeated, as she realized that she didn’t really have any other way to spend this time; she didn’t have a personal life, or hobbies, or do any other enjoyable things for herself other than fuck random strangers from time to time. 

That was it. That was all her life amounted to. Work and… _this;_ whatever the hell this was supposed to be. 

“Do you realize that this is all our life really amounts to?” Miranda asked softly, looking out at the skyline of Illium, taking in the bright lights of the city and the bustle of traffic below. 

“The hell you talking about?”

“I mean _this,_ ” Miranda responded, sighing quietly. “Our last shore leave, quite possibly our last time to ever truly enjoy ourselves, and here we are; me, looking for pleasure from strangers and you, messing with my life for kicks. We have nothing of substance and it’s… rather depressing.”

“Man, you’re a hell of a killjoy.”

Miranda just shook her head, exhaling another quiet sigh as she turned to face her. “Just get it over with,” she encouraged. “Call me a slut, laugh at me for coming here, throw the number of people I’ve slept with back in my face… whatever it is that you need to do to try to embarrass me enough for us to be even, and let’s just be done with it.”

Jack looked at her strangely, her brow crinkling as she took in the change in Miranda’s demeanor. But all of this just reminded her of how hollow her life really was, and she just didn’t… she didn’t care anymore. What was the point of it anyway? 

“Depression doesn’t look good on you, Cheerleader,” Jack informed her as she hoisted herself off the couch, raking her nails over the back of her scalp before she approached her. “And it’s kinda fucking up my fun, so stop.”

“Oh, apologies for ruining the fun you were going to have at _my_ expense,” Miranda responded dryly, rolling her eyes. But suddenly a hand was on her shoulder and she was being forcefully shoved against the thick window that separated them and certain death. “Hey!”

“You’re a fucking idiot sometimes, you know?” Jack snapped, looking at her like she was being utterly ignorant. “The fuck you think I paid for this room for; kicks?”

Miranda looked at her in disbelief, before a short laugh escaped her lips. “You _can’t_ be serious.” Jack actually lured her out here to fuck her? Because there certainly were better ways of doing that outside of digging into her privacy and then humiliating her with her findings.

“You got something better to do?”

Miranda shoved the other woman off of her, lines of irritation etching into her expression. “You tell me we’re done, ignore me for two weeks, and now suddenly you want back in my bed? Have you lost your mind?”

“No, but I might lose my life in a week, so who the fuck cares what happens now?” Jack countered, outstretching her arms in a gesture of indifference. “Come on, don’t act all fucking wounded over it; you would have done the same damn thing if I had given you the chance.”

Miranda just stared at her, shaking her head in disbelief; because no, she wouldn’t have. Even if she had decided that things between them couldn’t go any farther than their one encounter, she would have spoken to her about it like an adult, explained to Jack her reasoning and let her down easy; _not_ have one last kiss with her to screw with her head and then flat out ignore her for weeks like she despised her very existence. What the hell was wrong with this woman?

So Miranda just scoffed and moved to walk away, but in a flash Jack had snatched her wrist, imploring fiercely, “ _Miranda._ ”

_That’s_ what made her stop; the sound of her own damn name. It was such an inconsequential thing when it came from anyone else, but from her, a woman who had never uttered it before, it suddenly made this conversation actually seem important enough to entertain. 

“You actually know my name?” Miranda deadpanned, still not turning to look at her. Jack’s hand still hadn’t lost its grip on her wrist.

“Seriously, the fuck you getting all girly on me for?” Jack asked, apparently not understanding why she wouldn’t just jump into bed with her. But in all honesty, neither did Miranda in that moment; why did it matter to her, what Jack had done? Why had it bothered her so bloody much that she had continuously ignored her? She wasn’t important; she wasn’t anything. “Don’t tell me I actually hurt your feelings.”

“Please. I don’t care enough for you to hurt me, Jack.”

“Yeah?” Jack challenged, her tone disbelieving. “Then why the hell are you making such a huge deal out of this?”

Miranda didn’t know. She didn’t know why she was so angry with her, or why any of this even mattered. Bruised ego, probably, that Jack didn’t fall all over herself to be with her like the rest had. In the end, it was the only thing that made any sort of sense. That made her sound terribly egotistical however, and so Miranda kept her mouth shut. None of this mattered anyway; in the end, they both knew that she was eventually going to turn around and fall right into bed with her. It was what she came here for, after all, and it really was their last time to enjoy themselves.

She just really hadn’t expected to be doing that with Jack. Hell, she hadn’t expected that _Jack_ would want to do that with _her._ The last time they had fucked, the woman was screaming in her face that she hated her while she brought her to orgasm; Miranda doubted she was high up on the list of people that Jack wanted to be around. And yet… Jack had brought her here. Why?

“Why me?”

Jack let go of her wrist then, taking a step backwards. “What?” she asked, confusion masking her sharp features. She apparently did not expect that question. “The fuck do you mean, why you? You’ve got a nice cunt and a banging set of tits, why the hell else?”

“I’m serious,” Miranda responded, finally turning to face her. For some reason, in that moment, it was really important for her to know. “I may have a nice body, but you can’t stand me; we can’t stand _each other._ This may be the last fuck you’ll ever have, so why pick someone you don’t even like; surely you have better options. And why the hell did you spend an inordinate amount of money on this fancy hotel room that I _know_ you have no interest in, when you could have just as easily done this in something affordable? I would have still come either way; you know I would of, so why did you—”

“Oh my god— _just shut the fuck up!_ ” Jack sneered, exasperated by all her questions as she grabbed Miranda’s chin in her hand, muffling the operative’s words with a kiss of such a fierce intensity that the woman practically stumbled backwards. 

Jack used that to her advantage, guiding Miranda until, once again, she was pressed up against the glass of the hotel room’s window. She kissed her until she felt Miranda succumb, until she felt her sink into her and grasp for her scalp as she realized that whatever she was feeling, whatever this was, it didn’t matter. She just wanted to feel something against her that was warm, that was solid and that was _real_ , before they reached the point of no return.

And in the end, maybe Jack worked better than most in that regard, as no doubt she desired the same damn thing. They could relate; once again, they could relate to one another, and Miranda wished more than anything that she didn’t crave something like that, because she didn’t want to fall into Jack any more than she already had.

Miranda moaned as Jack forcefully turned her around, unzipping the back of her dress and pulling it down her shoulders, past her breasts that she then forced up against the cold glass of the window. Miranda felt her nipples stiffen as she looked down at the world below them, all the tiny people bustling around on the streets that had no clue that if they just looked up, they would see something that would make even the most sinful of asari dancers blush. It turned Miranda on far more than she was willing to admit. 

Jack hiked up her dress then, exposing her ass as she forced the operative’s legs apart. Miranda allowed herself to be manhandled, and a sharp breath left her lungs as Jack’s hand found its way between her thighs, her fingers running through damp folds as she confirmed exactly what it was that she had been searching for. 

“I fucking knew it,” Jack hissed in her ear, sounding victorious that Miranda had done exactly what she had asked. “You little _slut._ ”

“You’re right,” Miranda admitted, the words causing a light fog to speckle the clear glass of the window. “I am a slut.”

It was the truth anyway, so why should she hide from it? Why should she be ashamed? She enjoyed sex; that certainly wasn’t a crime. There was no reason for her to ever feel badly about that.

Jack just chuckled though, her hand tangling in a mess of dark hair as she forced Miranda’s head to the side. “I know,” she breathed against her skin, before allowing her tongue to trace the entire length of her neck. The feeling of it caused the woman beneath her to shiver in need as she felt Jack press her lips to her ear. “That’s what I like about you, Cerberus bitch.”

Miranda felt the woman shift behind her then, and a zip preceded the sound of her cargo pants falling to the floor. Something long and hard pressed itself between her ass cheeks then, and the feel of it caused Miranda to stifle a small whimper before she got ahold of herself, and tsked at the woman behind her. Had she been wearing that the whole time? “Presumptuous.”

“Prepared,” Jack corrected, sliding the phallus downwards and between her thighs, coating the length of it with the older woman’s arousal. Miranda moaned, feeling the ridges of it run over her clitoris and then back again, and she spread her legs wider in her response as she pushed her ass directly up against the woman behind her. “Beg me,” Jack ordered, her fingers digging into Miranda’s hip. “Fucking _beg_ me to fuck you with it, Cheerleader, and maybe I’ll consider being generous.”

“Please,” Miranda gasped, not hesitating for a moment as she allowed Jack what it was that she wanted. This was their game, wasn’t it; their dynamic? Miranda could fight against it, prolong it, but the fact of the matter was when they were like this, Jack was in charge, and that was precisely the way that both of them liked it. Why fight for a sense of control that she didn’t even desire? “I want to feel you inside of me; I want you to fuck me. Plea—Jack, _please…_ ”

It was the use of her name that got Jack off, and the convict growled in approval as she kissed and bit the back of her shoulder, causing Miranda to whimper in need as Jack positioned the phallus at her entrance. Miranda had noticed the way Jack got whenever she used her name the first time, the woman apparently needing validation for what she was doing, and as it was such a simple way to please her, Miranda complied. In the end, she reaped the benefits from it anyway.

Miranda threw her head back, a deep moan ripping from the back of her throat as Jack slid inside of her. She reached blindly behind her, allowing her nails to rake over the woman’s scalp as she grasped for the solidness, the warmth that she had had been aching for. Miranda could feel Jack’s uneven breaths against the back of her neck before soft lips were placed against her skin, the kiss surprisingly gentle as the woman’s tongue teased her skin. Jack was going slow, sliding in and out of her at a leisurely pace as she allowed Miranda a moment to adjust to its size. But it was… _oh,_ it was exactly what she needed right then.

“Fuck,” Miranda breathed, turning her head to place her lips against Jack’s scalp as the woman continued to leave small hickeys up and down her neck. “Keep doing that,” she begged, her lashes hitting her cheeks as she allowed the feeling of it to burn straight though her. “Just like that, please…”

“Slow?” Jack asked, her voice husked and a little disbelieving that that was what Miranda wanted right now. And honestly, she would have never thought that she’d want something like this either; it felt a little too intimate for the nature of their relationship, or lack thereof. Still, that was what she craved on her last leave; a closeness from another human being, even if that human being was Jack. She wanted to be held just like this and fucked very slowly until her body finally succumbs and she comes all over herself, right in view of anyone on the street who would happen to look up.

“Please,” Miranda begged through another soft moan, Jack having slowly slid the phallus back all the way to its hilt. “Violate me later, put it in my arse if you want just—just give me this right now.”

Jack paused as she contemplated that, and her uneven breaths against the shell of her ear made Miranda whimper and writhe in her hold. But then finally Jack moved, complying her wishes as she responded, her tone low and a little impatient, “Fine—fucking whatever; be a huge girl about this. But I’m holding you to that ass thing later.”

_Be a huge girl about—_ “Fuck you,” Miranda snapped breathlessly, irritation crossing her face at being mocked like that. But Jack just reached up to squeeze her breasts, and chuckled lowly in her ear.

“You first.”

It was a long while until Miranda finally came, but when she did she was panting and grasping for the woman behind her, chanting her name over and over until the pressure that had gradually built inside of her had finally released. She had known that she needed something like that, but she hadn’t realized just how much until it happened. She felt weightless, she felt… she felt _better._ She felt like maybe, even if it didn’t amount to anything in the end, that she got something worthwhile out of this leave, and that was all that she had wanted.

They fucked for hours, on every surface of the room imaginable. The bed was a last resort, as it was arguably the most boring, but as it was now Miranda who wore the strap on as Jack was mounted atop her, bouncing up and down as she cried out and panted and swore, Miranda found she would never dare think to call such a sight ‘boring’.

When Jack came, her hands that were placed on Miranda’s chest to keep her pinned pressed a little harder, her fingers curling inwards as her nails pierced the operative’s skin. Miranda cried out at the same time Jack did, retaliating by digging _her_ nails into Jack’s hips, before the convict’s body released one last shudder of pleasure, and the woman practically crumpled on top of her.

“ _Fuck,_ ” she panted, sounding spent and exhausted as she used one of Miranda’s breasts as a makeshift pillow. The operative was breathing heavily as well, their marathon of sex beginning to finally catch up with her, and she closed her eyes as she placed her hand on the back of Jack’s head, allowing the woman to just stay where she was for the moment.

They lay there in silence for a long while as Miranda idly dragged her nails over Jack’s scalp, the movement eventually causing the woman to murmur soft sounds of approval as she settled completely into her. “Careful,” Miranda teased, her voice hoarse and scratchy from all the screaming she had done. “Wanting to cuddle? You might be turning into a girl.”

“Fuck you,” Jack shot back, but there wasn’t any venom in it and she didn’t move. “This isn’t cuddling, it’s a fucking scalp massage; now stop talking and keeping doing that.”

Miranda smirked, but complied with the woman’s wishes. She enjoyed it, if she were being honest with herself; which was strange, because she didn’t feel that sort of inclination towards Jack. Perhaps she was beginning to realize that she hated her much less than she used to, but the woman was still mouthy, rude, and irritating... it just so happened that she was also very comfortable to lay with.

In the end, a part of her was actually glad that it was Jack who had been waiting for her in this room. She was still intensely annoyed over the circumstances that had brought it about, but their time together had actually been… rather enjoyable. She definitely didn’t hate it.

“Ugh,” Jack groaned, shifting a little on top of her as she buried her face in Miranda’s breasts. “I need to get this dick out of me, but I don’t wanna move.” 

Miranda chuckled, gently guiding Jack to sit up and lift her hips so she could pull out of her. Jack grunted at the feeling, and after Miranda unhooked the straps and threw the phallus to the side, she grabbed the woman’s hand and pulled her back on top of her before Jack could move completely away. The convict snorted, but surprisingly complied with her request as she laid her head back on Miranda’s breast. Maybe in the end they really did crave the same thing; a sense of closeness with someone, even if it was with the last person they’d probably ever think to want. 

Facing certain death does some funny things to people. 

“Girl,” Jack accused, because apparently to her, that was one of the worst things imaginable. And yet there she was, complying with Miranda’s request for ‘girlyness’; so what exactly did that make her?

“You know, your insults really aren’t what they used to be. Is someone getting soft?”

“Cunt.”

Miranda laughed, allowing her hand to run down the length of the convict’s back. Despite her appearance, which was sharp and angry and loud, Jack was soft, her skin surprisingly smooth outside of the ridges of the scars that littered her body. There was one that fell down the entire length of her spine, with another crossing over it to touch her right shoulder blade. One was on the back of her neck, and more littered her stomach, another large one cutting right down the middle and extending outwards in a V shape over her belly button. 

Until she started sleeping with her, until her finger started mapping every inch of Jack’s body, Miranda hadn’t really noticed how many there were. The tattoos that covered a large portion of the convict’s body masked them well, and Miranda had to wonder if that was why Jack had begun getting them in the first place; to look more dangerous, and less like a victim. 

Miranda had never minded the cruelty of Cerberus; they did what they had to to get the job done, looking at a bigger picture rather than one individual. Suffering, for the greater good, had been perfectly acceptable to her. But as Miranda lay with one of the individuals they had destroyed, her heart began to ache, and she felt sickened with herself for working for people who could do that to someone.

Maybe it was she who was getting soft.

Miranda wanted to apologize to her, to tell her that what Cerberus did to her was cruel, and that she was sorry that it happened to her, but she wouldn’t allow herself to utter the words. She knew Jack wouldn’t take it well; she would probably feel as though Miranda pitied her, and would close herself off in an instant. She didn’t want that. They only had a few hours left of their leave, and Miranda didn’t want to fill that time with an argument. It was better if she just… stayed silent, and allowed them both to enjoy what was left of their time together.

So in order to get her mind off of those things, Miranda pulled her hand away from Jack’s scarred back, resting it atop her head once again as she asked softly, “Did you ever get that fish?”

“No,” Jack responded, the word coming out mumbled against Miranda’s skin. Her eyes were closed, and her fingers were gently tracing the dip in the other woman’s waist. Miranda wondered if she even knew she was doing it, or if it was a subconscious movement. “Didn’t want it to die.”

“Well, having enough responsibility to feed it every day would be a good start to keeping it alive.”

“No, you dumbass,” Jack shot back, sounding exasperated. “The fucking Relay; ain’t nothing coming back from that. Not us, not fish.”

“Oh.”

Miranda was silent for a long moment after that, and her lack of a further response seemed to tug at Jack’s curiosity just enough for her to open her eyes and turn her head towards her. Her eyes narrowed when she took in Miranda’s expression. “The fuck you smiling about?”

“You’re just… unexpectedly endearing sometimes, is all. I never pictured that you would be.”

“Nobody wants to kill a pet, idiot,” Jack snapped, getting defensive as she started to look a little embarrassed at Miranda’s assessment of her. But it really was unexpected; pleasantly so, even. Maybe even a little cute, although Miranda wouldn’t dare call Jack that to her face. “Although I don’t think Shepard really gives a fuck about hers. Thinking about liberating them.”

“Liberating her fish?” Miranda asked, eyebrows rising. “And by that do you mean, break into her cabin and steal them? Because that could go over very badly.”

“It’s not breaking in for _you_ if you’re in charge while she’s off ship,” Jack reasoned, her gaze almost imploring as they held eye contact with the other woman.

Miranda’s light laugher held a bit of a warning to it. “Oh no, don’t get _me_ involved in this—”

“Come on, Lawson; don’t be a dick,” Jack implored as she sat up, her legs still straddling the woman’s waist as she looked down at her. “We might be crazy stupid enough to barrel through the freaking Relay, but it’s not like the fish asked for it. It’s totally fucked if we just let them die; like animal cruelty or some crap.”

“So let me get this straight,” Miranda responded, looking at Jack in surprise because for the life of her, she had not seen this side of the woman coming. “You have no issue with snapping a man’s neck or crushing every bone in his body with your biotics, yet you don’t want to see _fish_ die?”

“Men are assholes,” Jack reasoned. “When’s the last time a fish pissed you off? They don’t do shit to nobody; they’re innocent.”

“Men are arseholes, huh?” Miranda repeated, smirking as she shifted a little, propping herself up on her elbows as she looked at the woman atop her. “Is that why you’re gay?”

“Never said I was gay, just said that men are assholes,” Jack responded, like linking the two was a stupid conclusion for Miranda to jump to. “Doesn’t mean I don’t think that chicks are assholes too. Hell, look at me; I’m a huge asshole. And you, Cheerleader, you’re _definitely_ a fucking asshole… but hey, if you help me, maybe you can knock that down to being ‘really fucking irritating’ instead.”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “You say that as though you presume I care how you view me.”

“You do,” Jack countered, placing her arms on either side of Miranda’s body as she hovered over her. “Because _you…_ ” she drawled, leaning down to drag her tongue around the swell of the operative’s right breast, “love,” a sharp bite to her nipple followed then, causing Miranda to cry out, “to fuck me.” Jack’s head shot up then, keeping eye contact with the other woman as she finished, “And if I start thinking less of you than I already do, then I’m probably not gonna want to do that anymore.”

“Please,” Miranda scoffed. Like she didn’t have an endless amount of options when it came to sexual partners; Jack was _not_ the only person in the world that could give her orgasms. But Jack just exhaled an irritated breath as she pinched her nipples, causing Miranda to lose her train of thought and buck her hips as she exhaled a sharp gasp.

“Come on, just fucking help me, okay? I can’t get in Shep’s cabin without you.”

Well that was true; only she and Shepard had access to that level. EDI could easily unlock it for Jack if she wished to, but it was doubtful that she would go against orders, and so that only left… her. Miranda smirked, realizing something. “So you need me.”

Jack narrowed her eyes. “So?”

“So you need me,” Miranda repeated, her smirk widening. “Say it.”

“Screw you.”

“Say it and I’ll do it,” Miranda compromised, even though, if she were being honest, she had already resolved to do it ever since Jack mentioned it. She found the woman’s compassion towards innocents unexpectedly endearing, and there was a small part of her that wished to… _encourage_ seeing more of that side of Jack; for whatever subconscious reasoning that she was certain she didn’t ever, _ever_ want to examine. Shepard was going to be so pissed, but surely Miranda could find an excuse to justify it; she just wasn’t exactly sure what it would be yet.

Jack looked irritated beyond belief, but as this was apparently important to her, she pushed her pride aside and ground out, “—I fucking need you, okay?”

“I need you, _Miranda,_ ” the operative corrected, pushing Jack’s buttons for no other reason than it was amusing to her, and the younger woman’s eyes flashed.

“I swear to God I’m gonna fucking punch you.”

“No you’re not,” Miranda responded, growing more amused by the minute. But hell, Jack had had some fun at her expense earlier; now it was her turn. “You want those fish to live, so just say it.”

Jack tensed her jaw. “Fine,” she responded flatly, irritation written all over her striking features. “I need you, _Miranda_ , you fucking self-absorbed piece of shit. Better?”

Miranda just laughed, which caused Jack to place her hand on her shoulder and roughly push her back down on her back. “I seriously fucking hate you,” she growled, grabbing Miranda’s wrists in her hands before pinning them above her head, her face just mere inches away from the brunette’s.

“Mmm…” Miranda moaned, lifting her head up just enough to brush her lips against hers. “Maybe,” she breathed, gently nipping on Jack’s bottom lip, pulling at it with her teeth before taking it entirely into her mouth, sucking just enough to cause Jack to emit a soft groan. The convict leaned forward to deepen the kiss then, but Miranda didn’t allow it to last long as she turned her head, and pressed her lips to Jack’s ear. “But you _love_ to fuck me,” she finished with a smirk, throwing the other woman’s accusation back in her face.

“Fuck you.”

Miranda chuckled and, in a demonstration that Jack’s power over her was only given, and not forcefully earned, she got herself out of the other woman’s hold before flipping their positions. Hovering over her, Miranda watched the surprise wash across Jack’s face as her brain caught up to what just happened, and the operative smirked as she allowed her fingers to drag through slick folds, prompting a deep groan and a sharp buck of hips.

“You first.”

**TBC…**


	5. V

**V.**

“You mind telling me where exactly all of my fish went?”

Miranda guiltily shifted the weight between her feet before she clasped her hands behind her back, trying to maintain a certain level of professionalism as she forced herself to stand at attention, despite the fact that in all honesty, what she had helped Jack do, wasn’t professional in the slightest. When Shepard returned to the Normandy and immediately requested that Miranda see her in her cabin, the operative knew exactly what this would be about, and she reminded herself to run through her excuse in her head one more time before opening her mouth.

“I only did what you asked of me, Commander.”

Shepard’s brow arched disbelievingly as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t remember asking you to remove the fish from my cabin, Miranda.”

“No, you did not, but you did ask me to rectify the mistake I had made regarding Jack’s trust in this squad,” Miranda answered, keeping her tone even and straight forward as she bullshitted around what she had done to her commanding officer. “This seemed like a rather simple way to rebuild it, and so I granted her request to remove them from the ship when she asked.”

“Uh huh,” Shepard responded, still sounding a little suspicious of her XO’s motives. “Mind telling me _why_ she wanted them removed?”

“She… didn’t want them to die when we go through the Omega 4 Relay. The thought of it seemed to be rather upsetting to her.”

“—Cute,” Shepard deadpanned. Miranda suddenly felt herself start to flush and she looked away from her commander, trying to somehow gain control over her body’s involuntary reaction. It was a futile attempt, and Shepard’s brow arced even further at the sudden break in Miranda’s professional demeanor. “Which, apparently, is a sentiment that you share.”

“It was for morale, Commander,” Miranda insisted, despite Shepard’s clearly drawn conclusion that it had been for reasons that had nothing at all to do with the squad. “If Jack had been unhappy, she would have kicked up a fuss about it, which could have disrupted the other squad members and caused unnecessary distractions, put into question the way we handle our interpersonal disputes, and—”

“Miranda, stop,” Shepard interrupted, raising her hand to halt her XO’s words. “You’re trying way too hard to sell this. And honestly I probably would have believed you, if I hadn’t just spent the last twelve hours with the new Shadow Broker.”

Miranda fought the urge to be embarrassed as she heard the implication in her commander’s voice, and she steeled her jaw as she focused on being irritated instead. “Did I not just get reprimanded recently for invading the crew’s privacy? Checking up on us—that is entirely hypocritical of you, Shepard.”

“This crew’s safety and wellbeing is one of my primary concerns,” Shepard defended, taking a step closer towards her. “The amount of information the old Broker had on each and every one of you was staggering, and Liara was assisting me in going through it and wiping out anything that could either be severely damaging to a reputation, be used as blackmail material, or that would potentially put one of your lives in jeopardy if we actually survive this mission and that base were to ever fall into the wrong hands. The Normandy and everyone aboard it was of great interest to the last Shadow Broker and before we had the system stop tracking purchases made and extranet activity, it was getting updated quite frequently.”

Great. That meant that the conversation between her and Jack on iPartner Connections _and_ Jack’s purchase of the hotel room would have shown up in their file, if it was getting regularly updated. The only comfort Miranda really had what that Shepard had no way of knowing what time she actually left Jack’s room, but it was only minimal, considering her willingness to assist Jack in stealing Shepard’s fish probably indicated that she hadn’t stormed out when she realized she was being deceived.

“I don’t care what you do in your personal life, Miranda,” Shepard told her. “We’ve discussed your relationship with Jack already, and so long as it doesn’t cause any problems while you’re aboard this ship, then what you do with her isn’t my concern. I do not, however, appreciate you lying to me; you’re my XO and I need to trust you, and if you’re so quick to lie about inconsequential things, it makes me question what else you’re willing to lie about.”

Miranda bit the inside of her cheek in guilt, her gaze dropping to the floor. She hadn’t exactly thought of it that way, and she felt terrible for putting Shepard in a position where she had to question the trust that she had in her. That certainly wasn’t her intention, and she would _never_ lie about something of importance, but she did realize how this could reflect badly on her.

“So I’m going to ask you again,” Shepard continued, leaning against the wall as she crossed her arms over her chest once more. “Why did you help Jack steal the fish from my cabin?”

“I found her desire to save them endearing,” Miranda admitted, feeling absolutely foolish about the way this conversation had gone. Ever since she had taken an interest in the convict, it seemed her decision making skills were beginning to suffer, and with it, her job. “And, I’m unsure why, but I had this inane need to please her.” Looking up, Miranda apologized, “I’m sorry, Commander; if we actually survive this mission, I’ll be sure to replace them.”

Shepard waved that off, “They’re just fish; I really couldn’t care.” Which, apparently, proved Jack’s point, but the operative kept herself silent as she waited for Shepard to finish. “But I expect that you will not lie to me again, Miranda; we’re about to reach a point of no return, and I want people on my side that I can trust and who can trust me.”

Miranda nodded, still feeling rather foolish however keeping it buried inside of her. She realized that she had made a bad call when she had decided to lie to Shepard, and so now she needed to suck it up and deal with the consequences. “Understood, Commander.”

“Good, you’re dismissed.” But just as Miranda went to turn away, Shepard amended, “Oh, and Miranda? Please tell Jack that the next time she has an issue regarding my actions or lack thereof, that I expect she will come to me first.”

“—Yes, Commander.”

[x]

By the end of the day, they had obtained the Reaper IFF, and EDI was sent all the necessary protocols to get it integrated successfully into the Normandy's systems. However, they had also brought back something else, and Shepard’s decision to keep the geth against her recommendation really got underneath Miranda’s skin. It made her wonder if Shepard even trusted her judgment, as she was so quick to shut down her suggestion of giving it to Cerberus. Not only that, but she had foolishly reactivated the damn hunk of metal, and now the thing was distracting Shepard from focusing on what was actually important as it dragged her and Tali to Heretic Station to stop a virus that may not even exist.

Granted, they did have some time before the IFF was successfully integrated into their systems, but it still seemed like a ridiculous waste of time, and a poor waste of resources.

Miranda was pissed off, and apparently had allowed herself to fall into the habit of finding stress relief in the most asinine of places, because the first place she stormed off to wasn’t her own office, but beneath the engineering deck.

As Jack looked up from her cot and took notice of her, Miranda began unzipping her cat suit before the other woman could even get a word out. “I don’t want to hear any smart remarks,” she told her, shedding her clothing like a second skin as she approached her. “Just fuck me and I’ll be sure to make it worth your while.”

Jack arched an eyebrow in her direction. “You offering to pay me or something?”

That was pretty much the last thing Miranda wanted to do to ‘compensate’ Jack for her time, as that was just… well, fairly pathetic, but Miranda had all this pent up aggression inside of her that was aching to be released, and this was the healthiest way she could think to do so, even though this growing dependency on someone like Jack really was anything but. “If that’s what it takes.”

“That’s just fucking sad.”

“Fuck you,” Miranda shot back, before approaching the cot and straddling Jack’s waist once she had fully stripped herself of her clothing. “Don’t act like you weren’t hoping for another chance to fuck me before we went into the Relay, so just do it.”

Surprisingly, Jack didn’t deny it. Instead she just forcefully grasped Miranda’s chin in her hand, bringing their lips only a hair’s width apart as she took a long moment to no doubt burn the desperate expression on Miranda’s face into the back of her mind. 

A slow smirk crossed the convict’s face then, and she breathed against her lips, “You know what I want from you?” Dragging her mouth up the curvature of Miranda’s jaw, Jack allowed her lips to find their home against the operative’s ear as she whispered her terms like some kind of dirty little secret, “I want to watch you fuck yourself; I want to watch you make yourself come to the thought of me, of everything you want me to do to you. Will you do that for me, Cheerleader…?”

“After,” Miranda promised, her voice getting a little breathy as she curled her fingers around the other woman’s bicep. “But right now I need you to take me hard; I want you to fuck me, I want you to hurt me, I want you to make me scream, because I am so _bloody_ —”

But Miranda’s words were cut off then as Jack grabbed a hold of her throat, pressing just enough to acquire dominance, but not enough to cut off her airflow. “You’re so what? _Pissed off?_ ” she mocked, purposefully trying to rile Miranda up. “Oh boo hoo, did the spoiled fucking princess not get her way today?”

Miranda steeled her jaw and said nothing, knowing Jack was just trying to piss her off further, and refusing to let her. She was already angry enough; she didn’t need this right now. 

“Maybe that’s because you’re a little bitch without a backbone,” Jack continued, her words harsh as she kept a tight hold on the other woman’s throat. “Look at you, just sitting there waiting for me to fuck you in the ass like everyone else, and you wonder why no one takes you seriously? It’s not your tits and your ass, sweetheart; it’s the fact that you’re a little pussy _bitch_ who’s not good at anything other than bending over.”

Despite the fact that Miranda didn’t believe most of that to be true, there was just something in the way Jack _said_ it that caused the operative to snap and see red. She was out of Jack’s hold in an instant, her fist colliding with the convict’s jaw. Jack retaliated in kind, forcefully pushing Miranda out of the bed until they were struggling for the upper hand on the hard floor of the engineering deck. They were fairly evenly matched, neither of them being in control for very long until the other forcefully took it from them, and Miranda was embarrassed to admit that she hadn’t even realized what Jack was doing until the convict’s fingers were inside her and she was getting pounded mercilessly into the floor.

“Fuck, _fuck!_ Fuck you—ugnnff…!”

Adrenaline was pumping in her veins and she felt like she was on fire as she bit, claw, and tore into the woman on top of her, finding something freeing in the pain and in her anger as she transferred everything she was feeling about Shepard’s outright dismissal of her sound advice onto Jack’s body. It was exactly what she needed, and the strange part of it was that it seemed Jack knew that far better than she did.

After she came, Miranda’s back collapsed flat against the floor as she pushed the hair back from her eyes, panting heavily. Jack was still leaning over her, her bruised and scratched body gleaming with perspiration as she tried to catch her breath as well. “Fucking idiot,” she panted, looking down at Miranda’s body that was just as beaten as her own. “Pissed off, so you want me to subdue you even more without a fight; the fuck’s wrong with you?”

Miranda just shook her head, because she didn’t know. It had seemed like a solid plan, but in the end, Jack’s approach had been far, far better. She needed to fight, she _needed_ to get out her aggression, and not just allow someone else to take it out of her. Feeling the steady beat of her pounding heart against her ribcage, Miranda turned her head towards the other woman and, instead of justifying what she had asked for, instead breathlessly responded, “…Thank you.”

Jack just snorted. “Dumbass.”

It didn’t have any bite to it though, and Miranda just suspected the woman didn’t know how to take gratitude. Miranda moistened her bottom lip as she allowed her gaze to take in Jack’s features, and she internally winced as she took notice of the large bruise that was beginning to cover the right side of her face. Reaching up, Miranda gently allowed her fingers to drag over the woman’s skin as she breathed, “Shit… did I hurt you?”

Jack immediately turned her face away from the touch, finding the intimacy in it uncomfortable and possibly a little frightening as she snapped, “What, you think I can’t take a fucking punch?”

“No. I just… feel a little badly about it,” Miranda admitted, surprise filtering into her tone because she hadn’t actually expected to either. Since when did she start caring about how Jack felt?

“Well don’t,” Jack told her shortly, sitting back on her heels as her eyes swept over Miranda’s form. “Cause your body isn’t exactly in pristine fucking shape either there, princess.”

Miranda looked down, taking note of her own bruises, her own scratches, and a slow smile crept across her face as she let her head fall back to the floor and exhaled a murmur of approval. Yes, this was exactly what she had needed, and she was beyond grateful that she had gotten it; she felt so much calmer already. Grasping for Jack’s hand, Miranda didn’t really think about what she was doing as she pulled the other woman down to lie on top of her; falling into some ridiculous routine that had begun in the hotel room last night.

Jack, however, _noticed._ “You’re so fucked,” she told her, looking down at the woman she was on top of and yet, did not move to place distance between them, nor did she let go of Miranda’s hand. “Crushing on me… this shit’s gonna blow up in your face.”

“Then what’s this?” Miranda countered, holding up their linked hands that Jack hadn’t sought to remove, waving them in the convict’s face. Jack pulled away like she had been burned and sat up, which just made Miranda laugh. She felt so relaxed right then that she didn’t even care about the other woman’s accusation, although she was sure it would be something she agonized about later as she wondered if, by some strange twist of fate, she was actually beginning to enjoy Jack’s company. Still, Miranda assured her, “Relax. You’re good in bed, that’s all I care about.”

“Then what’s with all this touchy-feely bullshit lately?” 

“You have soft skin.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

Miranda exhaled an impatient breath as she finally allowed herself to sit up. Fine, she’d admit it; what difference would it make now anyway? “The likelihood of us dying tomorrow is fairly high,” she explained to her, as the IFF should be fully integrated by then. “So… maybe it’s just that I don’t want to spend the last twenty four hours of my life feeling alone.”

“So what, you want to fake some kind of relationship with me so your life doesn’t seem as pathetic?”

Miranda sighed heavily and shook her head, beginning to feel foolish as she picked herself up off the floor. This was a terrible idea; she didn’t know why she thought Jack would be receptive to it. They might be in the same predicament, but clearly they had two very different viewpoints on what they wanted as they approached the end of the road. It wasn’t as though Miranda desired some kind of fake _relationship_ with her, she just enjoyed the feeling of the woman’s body against her own; her solidness, her warmth, it was… comforting, in its own disastrous little way. In the end, that really was all that she wanted, but it truly was very stupid of her to ever think to go looking for something like that in Jack.

But as Miranda picked her cat suit up from off the floor, suddenly it was slapped out of her hand. “The fuck are you doing? I didn’t say I wanted you to go; you still owe me a show.”

Miranda rolled her eyes at that, but as she bent down to retrieve her clothing once again, Jack’s hand quickly snatched her wrist. “ _Miranda._ ”

“ _What?_ ” the operative shot back, releasing an exasperated breath as she turned to look at her. 

Jack looked exasperated herself, and more than a little uncomfortable as she shifted the weight between her feet and demanded, “Just… get in the fucking bed, okay?”

Miranda blinked. “What?”

“Stay,” Jack implored, sounding frustrated and embarrassed that she was even having to do this in the first place. “Just fucking stay, alright? Till… I dunno, whenever Shepard comes back and we have to do this shit. I don’t care.”

Miranda just stared at her, not really expecting Jack to offer something like that. It could be quite a while until Shepard returned, and—

“Look, I’m not fucking offering again, so either get in my bed or get the fuck out,” Jack snapped, interrupting Miranda’s train of thought. Within seconds she complied, not really wanting to test Jack’s patience when it came to something as delicate as this, and the other woman followed her into the cot before pushing her roughly down on her back and climbing on top of her.

“Fucking girl,” she muttered as she flopped against her, resting her head in the crook of Miranda’s neck. Despite the frustration in Jack’s voice, her compliance made the older woman smile softly. Whether Jack wanted to admit it or not, she really was just as lonely as Miranda was, and craved the same kind of intimacy that Miranda herself was looking for.

And maybe in the end this really would prove to be a stupid idea, as if they both miraculously survived going through the Relay, they would have to actually face what it was that was developing between them. But as Miranda found that highly unlikely, she allowed herself to just feel and do whatever it was that she wanted and not worry about the consequences of it; because chances were, none of this would even matter come the next night anyway.

“You think we’re really gonna die?” Jack asked her after a long moment’s silence, and if Miranda didn’t know any better, the hardened, don’t-give-a-fuck-about-anything convict almost sounded a little worried about that. Miranda could relate. She believed in this mission, would gladly give her life for it, but that didn’t mean death was first choice.

“I don’t know,” Miranda admitted softly, gently dragging her nails over the other woman’s scalp. “With the upgrades we did to the ship, we might actually stand a chance getting through it, but surviving the actual mission, and coming back…”

That was where the real uncertainty lied. 

Jack didn’t respond to that, and the two of them laid in silence for a long while, Miranda just idly massaging the woman’s head as they foolishly allowed each other to fill the hole in their lives with the other person. Eventually, Jack had shifted to lay half on the cot and half on top of Miranda, and when they looked at one another, Miranda found herself slowly leaning in to close the distance between them. 

The two of them had barely kissed one another before now, having only done so for a short time before letting it turn into something more; something far more needy, and much less intimate. But this kiss wasn’t leading anywhere; it’s only purpose was to envelop them in some kind of lie that Miranda wished didn’t seem so appealing as they gently slid their lips over the other person’s. She could feel Jack’s uneven breaths against her skin as the woman softly closed her mouth over Miranda’s bottom lip, following her top one with the same treatment before their lips came completely together, and Jack allowed her tongue to slip deep into her mouth.

Miranda gently touched Jack’s face as she deepened the kiss, finding something so dangerously appealing in the unexpected softness with which the other woman kissed her. Jack’s fingers were mapping her body as she did so, finding their home along the curvature of her breast, and then the dip in her waist as she hovered over her more completely, and gently nipped at Miranda’s bottom lip with her teeth. It caused the other woman to exhale a small whimper, but the feeling was short lasting as Jack pulled away just enough to allow Miranda to feel her breath against her skin before allowing her eyes to briefly make contact with the operative’s as she settled back down against her.

Jack didn’t say anything for a long time, but then she finally shifted, lacing her fingers together and placing them on Miranda’s chest as she rested her chin atop them. She looked at her for a while, like she was trying to read something that was written in her eyes that Miranda didn’t know she had revealed. “What?” she asked softly, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious for reasons Miranda didn’t understand; it wasn’t often that she felt that way, but the way Jack was looking at her seemed very… invasive.

“You know this is fucking stupid, right?” Jack asked, suddenly sounding very conflicted over what they were doing. But where Miranda was trying to ignore it, pretending as though the issue didn’t exist unless they survived, Jack was apparently agonizing over it. “If we don’t die, this is gonna be the stupidest fucking thing we’ve ever done. Like do you even get that, or are you just being an idiot right now?”

“If you feel that way, then why did you invite me into your bed?” Miranda countered softly, even though she understood Jack’s worries. This sense of closeness, even if it was nothing more than a convenient lie told by two lonely people, was starting to feel like some kind of terrible addiction. Miranda truly, actually _liked_ holding her, liked kissing her like maybe Jack mattered more than what her body could do for her… and the worst part of it was, was that Miranda was finding that she enjoyed it almost as much as the sex that they had.

“Because I’m a fucking masochist, apparently.”

“Jack, it doesn’t—this doesn’t matter,” Miranda assured her, trying to ease Jack’s worries as well as her own as she laced their fingers together. “It’s a lie. We’re lonely, we’re probably going to die tomorrow, and it’s all just—it’s fabricated. It’s just a pretty lie to make things seem not as terrible. Life or death situations do messed up things to people.”

“So this is all just bullshit?” Jack asked, sounding hopeful but still a little uncertain. Miranda nodded, gently caressing the D in DEATH that was painted across the convict’s knuckles. Jack’s gaze flickered to what Miranda was doing, then back up to meet her eyes. “Good, ‘cause otherwise you’re really fucking with my head, Cheerleader.”

“Just ignore it,” Miranda encouraged, not wanting either of them to think about whatever this was, because the likelihood of it just being something born from the prospect of their forthcoming deaths was extremely high. It was just easier to go with it, to enjoy it, even if it truly was the most ridiculous thing either of them had ever willingly taken part in. This, of course, had to prompt Miranda to say something entirely stupid however as she looked at Jack and asked her quietly, apparently needing to cause the dynamic between them to become even stranger, “Has anyone ever told you that you have really beautiful eyes?”

“Right, okay, tell me to fucking ignore it and then say some stupid shit like that. You’re so fucked—”

She tried to pull away then, but Miranda tightened the grip on her hand and kept her where she was. “Jack, it’s not—it was an observation, not a marriage proposal. I didn’t…” But Miranda just sighed, shook her head, and dropped Jack’s hand. Within a moment she had gone from confident that she could ignore this, and defeated as she realized maybe that was a stupid thing to think. “Never mind. I honestly have no idea what I’m doing; I think I’m going insane. I really didn’t expect the mission to affect me in this way. I think I’m just using you for something I realized I was lacking in my life, and I’m sorry. That’s really not fair to you.” 

Jack glanced at the hand that had dropped her own, before she bit the inside of her cheek and met Miranda’s eyes again. She was silent for a long while, but when she finally spoke, she sounded a little defeated about whatever decision she had come to as she admitted, “You know what? You’re the most beautiful goddamn person I’ve ever seen in my life, and I really, _really_ fucking hate you for it. Like I really want to punch you because you’re so fucking pretty, it’s annoying.”

Miranda’s brow rose at that, and she couldn’t help the small smile that began to stretch across her face. She understood perfectly what that was; she had complimented Jack, and so Jack seemed to feel resigned to return the favor, albeit a little begrudgingly. She was letting Miranda have her little pre-death delusion, and letting herself have the same. Maybe it wasn’t the healthiest response in the world to a suicide mission, but it was theirs all the same.

“Fuck you. Stop smiling.”

Miranda’s only widened. “I really like your lips too.”

Jack rolled her eyes, no doubt to hide her own discomfort over being complimented. Miranda couldn’t imagine that she was very used to it, with the way that she grew up. “Alright, don’t fucking overdo it, kiss ass. Christ.”

“Granted, what comes _out_ of them could use some work—”

“Screw you.”

Miranda smirked. “I rest my case.” Jack scoffed, but Miranda could see a hint of a smirk tugging at the edges of her lips as well as she looked down at her.

She reached for her then, grabbing the strap that bound Jack’s chest together as she pulled the other woman towards and on top of her once more. As much as she was enjoying this, Miranda wasn’t stupid, and knew there was only so much of this change of behavior Jack could take until she began questioning the intelligence in what they were doing again. Miranda didn’t want that, didn’t even want to think of it herself, and so she allowed their interaction to go back to normal for a moment as she breathed teasingly against her lips, “Do you want to watch me fuck myself now…?”

Jack’s breathing noticeably shallowed, and suddenly she looked a little excited. “Fuck— yeah.” Miranda exhaled a breathy murmur as she allowed her lips to brush against the convict’s, teasing her just briefly before kissing her once, and then pushing her away from her.

“Then get undressed; I’m tired of you being the only one who’s wearing clothes.”

“What, need visual stimulation now?” Jack questioned with a smirk, but did as she was told as she began to strip herself of the fabric that covered her. 

“Yes and no,” Miranda answered, placing her head on Jack’s pillow as she settled on her back. Keeping eye contact with the other woman, Miranda paused for a second to let her tongue trace three of her fingers before sliding the hand down her body, allowing it to get lost between her thighs. “I want you to face this way,” Miranda instructed, nodding her head down the length of her body as she slowly, gently began to rub herself, “and straddle my face. As you watch me get myself off with my fingers, I can get you off with my mouth. Sound acceptable?”

A wicked smile crossed Jack’s face at that. “You really have no fucking shame, do you?”

“About sex?” Miranda asked, parting her thighs as she spread herself for Jack’s hungry gaze. “Why should I?”

“You shouldn’t,” Jack agreed as she shucked her pants off of her, practically kicking them and her underwear across the room. The woman really was as graceful as a bull in a china shop. “But some people are fucking stupid about it and get wicked weird. I like that you don’t.”

“You actually like something about me?” Miranda teased, her tongue resting against her cheek as she smirked. Jack shot her a look and scoffed at the assumption.

“Fuck you, Cheerleader.”

“Fuck _you._ Now sit on my face before the offer expires, convict,” Miranda demanded, and Jack wasted no time doing what she was told as she faced down her body, and placed her knees on either side of the operative’s face. When Miranda extended her tongue, she only barely grazed her a few times as she allowed her fingers to gently massage her own clitoris, causing Jack to groan in frustration.

“Shit, you’re gonna be a cunt-tease, aren’t you?”

“If you want a good show then I’m going to tease myself first, and if I’m getting teased, then so are you,” Miranda breathed against her skin before allowing her teeth to gently nip the inside of Jack’s thigh, a smirk forming across her face when she felt the other woman jump slightly at the feeling. And, as promised, she continued to just barely stimulate both herself and Jack until they were both so wet, so desperate and needy, that she could no longer take it anymore and she wrapped her lips fully around the convict’s clitoris as she slipped her fingers inside of herself.

Her own show didn’t last very long after that however, Jack apparently finding herself craving to return the favor as she leaned down, resting completely against her, before forcing Miranda’s fingers out of herself and covering the woman’s aching sex with her mouth instead. Miranda exhaled a shuddered moan as she pressed her hips into her face, the sound of her approval vibrating Jack’s sensitive flesh as she used her fingers to spread the woman completely for her, feeling the woman’s desire begin to coat her chin as she fucked her with her mouth.

She made Jack come twice before Miranda finally stopped fighting against the feeling that Jack was providing her, and released herself. Jack had already given her one orgasm earlier and she wanted them to be even, but her reluctance to let go sooner seemed to annoy Jack as she climbed off of her and accused, “Fuck you, you did that on purpose.”

Miranda opened her mouth to explain herself as she sat up, but she was roughly pushed back down as Jack got on top of her once more. “Shut up. I didn’t fucking say you could speak.” And then she collided their lips together, the kiss bruising and passionate as Jack slipped her fingers inside of her, forcing another three orgasms out of Miranda until the woman could do nothing else but claw at her skin and scream out her name, the sound of it echoing through the engineering deck as she momentarily forgot that the likelihood of Donnelly or Daniels hearing them if they didn’t keep it down was extremely high.

Eventually however, they pushed their bodies past the point of exhaustion, and fell asleep in each other’s arms. When Miranda awoke hours later, she was draped half on top of the other woman, her face nuzzled into Jack’s neck with one of her arms wrapped around her abdomen. She felt well-rested and satisfied, and a slow smile crept across her face as she realized that this was one of the better times she had ever awoken on this ship.

But just as Miranda’s smile came it was gone, the woman suddenly realizing that this was probably the last time she would ever wake up on this ship _period,_ and she gently untangled herself from Jack as she sat on the edge of the cot, looking down at the sleeping woman next to her. Her stomach suddenly felt like it was in knots, and Miranda had to tear herself away from Jack as she picked up her clothing from off the floor. She shouldn’t be here when the convict awoke; the time for lies and fantasy was over, and Miranda didn’t want them sinking into it any further than they already had. They had the most important mission of their lives to undertake, and they both needed to be thinking about that right now, and not one another.

Once she was dressed however, Miranda found herself stopping short of the stairwell, the aching feeling that had settled in her chest becoming impossible to ignore as she turned back around, her eyes resting on the sleeping form of the other woman. 

“Fuck, fuck. You bloody idiot,” Miranda cursed herself under her breath, realizing as she crossed the distance between them that if they did happen to survive this, then Jack was right, and she had made a goddamn mess of things by encouraging this kind of rampant stupidity. And yet still, Miranda dug the hole she had made a little deeper as she leaned down, and gently pressed her lips to Jack’s forehead as some kind of ridiculous parting gesture.

Something fluttered in the pit of her stomach. Damnit, what the hell had she done?

Miranda shot out of there like a bat out of hell after that, taking the steps two at a time as she physically ran away from the cause of her emotional turmoil. _Crushing on me… this shit’s gonna blow up in your face._ Jack’s earlier words repeated themselves in Miranda’s head as she bolted for the elevator, and suddenly she found herself half-hoping that something on the Collector Base would blow up in her face first, because that would at least be something she actually had a hope of surviving.

**TBC…**


	6. VI

**VI.**

To be quite honest, Miranda hadn’t exactly thought her escape plan through.

She had always enjoyed having her own private quarters, but it seemed that perk had come with an unexpected downside as Miranda was suddenly confronted by half of the crew that were scattered around the mess hall, most of whom had stopped eating once she arrived and were now staring at her. Miranda knew she must look a wreck with bed hair and makeup smeared under her eyes, and unfortunately, that alone left no question to the fact that she had just woken up; which wouldn’t be a problem, not really, except the fact that her quarters were right _next_ to the mess hall, and it was obvious she had not come from there. 

“…Good morning,” Miranda greeted stiffly, if not more politely than usual, just trying to break the silence that had fallen over the mess hall. She forced herself to stand up straight, telling herself that she had no reason to be embarrassed, even should they all know where she was coming from and what she had been doing. She was an adult after all, and she was allowed to make her own choices, despite how questionable they may be at times.

But in the end, it was still a little difficult for her because sex was one thing, but Jack… Jack was quite another. Whatever she had with Jack was now tainted by moronic things such as _feelings_ and… and whatever the hell went hand-in-hand with that utter disaster, and that was precisely what made Miranda uncomfortable. She really didn’t want anyone to know about that; although to be fair, she didn’t even want to know about it herself. Ignorance was, unfortunately, bliss; and something she no longer had the pleasure of experiencing.

“Definitely not as good as the night was though, eh?” Donnelly responded, blatantly leering in her direction and great, at least that cleared up whether or not anyone in engineering had heard them. Daniels elbowed the man in the ribs however, shooting him a disapproving look.

“Don’t be a pig.”

“What? I didn’t say anything rude!” Donnelly defended. “On the contrary, I think anyone should be glad to know that their happiness has given happiness to others; it’s like the gift that keeps on giving. A loud, _naked—_ ”

A muffin was shoved in his mouth then, successfully stopping him from saying anything more. “Please shut up before she shoots you. Please.”

“What’s going on?” Jacob asked, apparently not up to date on the latest ship gossip. Tali coughed awkwardly however while Kasumi snickered over by the pantry, and Miranda made a decision right then to just get in front of this, because it was obvious that far too many people knew about this already.

“I slept with Jack last night,” Miranda answered, keeping her tone flat as she grabbed a banana off the counter. In the end, knowledge like that would only hold power over her if she let it; honesty and indifference made it lose its edge. “And as the maturity level on this ship is exceedingly low, this has apparently become a noteworthy topic.”

“…Oh.” Jacob looked as though he wasn’t sure how he should take that, but Miranda supposed that was to be expected; they had had a night together themselves a long time ago. But then reality settled in, they realized they were two different people, and it never progressed into more. But in the end that was probably what perplexed him, because on the surface, it certainly seemed like she would have more in common with _him_ than with someone like Jack; which only furthered that assumption when his brow creased and he asked disbelievingly, “You— _Jack?_ Really?”

“Why the hell did I just hear my name come out of someone’s mouth,” Jack demanded as she came around the corner, this look of utter annoyance on her face; morning was apparently not one of her favorite times of day. She stifled a yawn before she took note of everyone looking at her, and her brow creased in irritation as she demanded, “The fuck are you all staring at?”

“It would seem our private life isn’t very private anymore,” Miranda deadpanned, making careful effort to not even look at the other woman as she said it, distracting herself with peeling her banana instead. She didn’t want to find out if she’d get that awful fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach again.

“You pervs were listening? What, you can’t rub one out to porn like normal fucking people?”

“No, that was—that was _not…_ ” Tali began to defend, seeming a little flustered by the accusation, before she just settled on the simple explanation of, “You both were just very loud, and unfortunately it… _echoes_ down in engineering. Believe me; none of us were trying to hear that.”

“Speak for yourself,” Donnelly interjected, which caused Daniels to shove his shoulder and scoff in disgust at his blatant perversions.

“Yeah, not even gonna pretend to be sorry about my ability to make a chick scream,” Jack responded with a smirk, causing Miranda to pinch the bridge of her nose and wish that this conversation wasn’t happening. Maybe it really was a small blessing that they all probably had twelve hours at most to live.

“As fascinating as all of this is,” Garrus interrupted dryly, looking completely disinterested in this conversation and a little exasperated that it had even begun in the first place. “There are some of us who don’t actually care what you did last night, so let’s get back on topic. Now, is everyone in? Because if we throw fifty creds in each, this could turn into a decent haul.”

“What’s the bet?” Miranda asked, immediately jumping on the change of topic since, at this point, anything at all had to be better than what they had just been discussing. 

“How many of us actually survive this mission.”

“It is a… very depressing bet,” Tali interjected, and Miranda was apt to agree. But, then again, what else did they have to bet on right now? It wasn’t as though they had anything else to aim for other than surviving the next twenty four hours.

“And here I was thinking some credits on the line might actually inspire you all to live,” Garrus responded, to which Kasumi scoffed in amusement. “It’s a morale thing.”

“That’s not nearly enough credits to inspire anything. You want morale? Put a mil on the table and you’ll see real fast what everyone’s _really_ capable of.”

“Fine, then by all means die if it isn’t enough for you, Kasumi; it will only get me one step closer to taking home the pot,” Garrus countered, turning back to his omni-tool to scan his notes as the thief rolled her eyes. “Now, I have nine, Jacob has seven, Tali has twelve; what about everyone else?”

“I’ve got fifty on me being the only one of you fuckers left standing,” Zaeed replied, chucking as he leaned back in his seat. 

Jack, apparently taking offense to that, immediately countered with a confrontational, “Please, old man; I bet you’re the first one that bites the dust. Can’t see shit with only one good eye.”

“Can see well enough to aim a gun, sweetheart; only damn thing that matters.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart, you fucking sweatbag.”

“We’re only doing numbers, not who dies first,” Garrus reminded them both, which made Jack exhale a frustrated breath and throw out her hands in an uncaring gesture.

“Fine, then I bet we all fucking die; how’s that?”

“You do realize that if you won on that bet, you wouldn’t be able to collect your winnings?” Miranda cut in, folding her arms across her chest. “So really, it’s just a waste of your credits if you actually survive.”

“Well, shit; guess what, Cheerleader? Nobody fucking asked you,” Jack shot back, apparently still irritated at the world for being awake; her confrontational attitude towards everyone proved that. Still, Miranda took it personally; which was moronic, really, and yet because of her current affliction it seemed she had lost her sense of rationality.

“What the hell is your problem?”

“I don’t have a fucking problem. Maybe you’re the one with a problem.”

“What kind of childish answer is _that?_ ” Miranda countered, disbelief washing over her features at how Jack was acting. Granted the woman had never been a morning person, or a day person, or a person who was ever _awake_ for that matter, but it seemed she was extra temperamental this morning, and Miranda absolutely despised that the glare the convict was sending her way actually really, really _bothered_ her.

What could have possibly set her off this morning? They had a rather enjoyable night together – or so Miranda thought anyway – but it seemed that Jack’s mood was now far worse than usual. Certainly she wasn’t upset that Miranda had snuck out right after she had woken up, was she? It just seemed… strange, for Jack to care about something like that, and yet it was the only conclusion Miranda could come to, since as far as she knew, nothing else had happened this morning that would irritate the woman this badly.

Was that what Jack meant then, when she said that it was her who had the problem? Did she actually manage to hurt her feelings, when she had only—

“Donnelly, Daniels, either of you want to venture a wager?” Garrus interrupted pointedly, trying to get everyone back on track and away from the brewing drama that was making Miranda’s stomach twist into tight knots.

“I have a question actually,” Daniels responded, holding up her hand a little for attention as Jack scoffed and shot the operative a furious glare before flopping down in one of the chairs. At least she was dropping it, which Miranda was thankful for since they were around other people, but that in no way meant that she was letting this go. If she had upset Jack, then she wanted to—she needed to know _why._

God, she was in so much trouble. Why did she have to start caring? Why, _why—?_

“So do I,” Donnelly interrupted before his counterpart could ask her question. “I thought sex was supposed to make people happy and relaxed, so why—”

Jack’s hands hit the table so hard the entire surface shook as she stood, and Donnelly looked like he was about to wet himself as he practically hid behind Daniels. “Jack,” Thane, who had since been quiet and contemplative in the corner, implored as he rose as well, placing a hand on the convict’s shoulder. “Sit down.”

It was a calm request, which was probably the only reason why Jack actually entertained it; if she had been threatened, this would have gone from bad to worse. So instead of advancing on the engineer, she instead pointed at him furiously and said, “Make another smart ass comment about my business and I swear to God I will rip out your tongue and wear it around my neck as a fucking trophy. You understand me, shit stain?”

“Yes,” Donnelly answered meekly, still holding onto Daniels like a human shield. “Please don’t rip me apart; I’m quite attached to all my limbs.”

Jack glared at him for a long time, unmoving, until her gaze rested on Miranda and she suddenly declared, “Screw this.” Pushing off the table, Jack turned around and stormed off towards the elevator, no doubt to go stew in her misery beneath the engineering deck. And Miranda knew she should probably leave her alone, but a part of her was legitimately concerned about the woman’s state of mind, and how that would affect her once they took on the Collectors. 

And so she followed after her.

“Excuse me,” Miranda mumbled as she left the mess hall shortly after Jack, hearing Daniels try to steer the conversation back to normal as she continued, “As I was _saying…_ are you just including squad members in your total count, or the entire crew? Because that changes my guess.”

Miranda didn’t stay to hear Garrus’ answer though as she got in the elevator and pressed the button for engineering. In the end, this was far more important than any stupid bet.

“Jack?” Miranda asked tentatively after she had descended the stairs, her gaze resting on the other woman across the room. Jack was sitting on the edge of her cot, her elbows on her knees and her fingers steepled against her lips as her right leg bounced up and down in an erratic motion. For being in a rested position, it looked like her entire body was poised for a fight, and so Miranda kept a respectable distance away from her, giving the woman space.

“Fuck off.” She didn’t even look at her.

Miranda pursed her lips into a thin line, and the request that left her mouth was forced and awkward. “…Tell me what’s wrong.”

Jack shot her a look of utter disbelief. “What are you, my therapist now? Get out. I’m not gonna fucking say it again.”

Miranda didn’t say anything, but she didn’t move either. Suddenly, she felt very uncomfortable; she had all these things she _could_ say, but she couldn’t force the words to fall from her lips. It just felt… wrong, somehow, to approach Jack with anything other than indifference because of her own innate fear that Jack would read what she had discovered about their relationship. She didn’t want the other woman to realize that she was starting to feel more than she originally intended to, but at the same time, she couldn’t just walk away without knowing that Jack was okay. She did, truly, worry about how Jack’s mental state would affect their mission, and not because it would lower their chances of beating the Collectors.

It was because she really didn’t want her to die. As much as the odds were stacked against them, and likely as Jack’s ‘bet’ that none of them would make it back was, Miranda didn’t want that; and when once she had accepted their inevitable death, now the prospect of it made her angry, because all of them had so much left to experience in this world.

It was that feeling in the pit of her stomach that made her realize it; a feeling that Miranda had never allowed herself to indulge because it complicated things or got in the way of her career ambitions. It terrified her and she hated it, yes; she hated how uncomfortable and how disoriented it made her feel, but there was also another part of her that ached to indulge in it – to allow it space to grow and become something that maybe, in the end, wouldn’t be so terrible at all.

And yet Miranda could never say those kinds of things out loud, so all that came out of her mouth was, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Jack’s laugh was loud and disbelieving. “What the fuck?” 

Miranda had never felt so out of her element before, and yet she tried because it was the only thing she could think to do. “If an orgasm will make you feel better—”

“Here’s a fucking question for you,” Jack interrupted, her gaze hard and her tone cold. “Why the hell do you care how I feel?”

“Because—!” Miranda began, her tone frustrated and helpless as she tangled her fingers in her hair. But a hard sigh escaped her lips instead of a reason, and her hand dropped lifelessly to her side as she copped out. “Because if your head isn’t in this, then it could end up jeopardizing the mission and getting everyone killed. We need you at your best.”

“So what, you want to lick my cunt for the good of the mission?” Jack countered, and God, the way she said it back to her made it sound so much worse than Miranda intended it to. It sounded as though she didn’t care at all about Jack as a person, and only saw her as a weapon that could further their cause and that—that wasn’t how she saw her at all. It made her feel terrible, because she knew that was how Jack saw herself already; like her skills were the only things that made her useful or important.

“No, that’s—” Miranda tried, her voice coming out quiet and unsure as she tried to backtrack through her selfish decision to lie to her. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

“Well you’re trying my patience, princess, so you better clear shit up real quick.”

Miranda felt her frustration mounting in the pit of her stomach, but it wasn’t towards Jack; it was towards herself. And it was ridiculous, because sex was something that she excelled at; seduction and manipulation, she could play that as naturally as breathing. But something had changed, and now she felt like a fish out of water as she was beginning to get overwhelmed by the conflicting voices inside of her that couldn’t come to a decision on whether or not she should say anything. A very real part of her was scared that it would just be thrown right back in her face, and right then she knew she couldn’t have that memory residing in the back of her mind when she needed to be clear and level headed for the mission to come.

And so she instinctively turned away; not to leave, but to just get Jack out of her line of sight so she could figure out how the hell she could fix whatever was wrong, without knowing at all what it was that was bothering the other woman, and without telling her something that she may come to regret. 

Jack, however, took her movement as an indication that she was leaving. “Right, okay, fucking run away again like some bitch-ass pansy,” she shot back, venom in her voice to mask her… what, _hurt?_ “‘Bout the only thing you’re actually good at anyway.”

Miranda turned to face her then, realization dawning across her features. “You’re angry that I snuck out, aren’t you?” she asked, even though she didn’t actually need confirmation of it; she could read it all over Jack’s face. “That I left you alone this morning.”

Damnit, she knew that was what it was, and yet it seemed so unlikely that Miranda had barely entertained the theory. Jack didn’t exactly seem the type to get upset over something like that, but apparently she had been wrong. 

“Just because you’re the center of your own little world, princess, doesn’t fucking mean that you’re the center of mine,” Jack countered, and yet despite her confrontational attitude and painted glare across her face, Miranda could still hear the confirmation in her tone that it had, actually, upset her to some degree. “I couldn’t give half a shit about you _or_ what you do, so why don’t you stop trying to insert yourself into my fucking life and just—”

But Jack couldn’t get out the rest of her sentence as Miranda did what came a little more naturally, and crossed the room to straddle the woman’s waist before kissing Jack’s steady slew of bullshit away. “I’m sorry,” she apologized when they broke, the sentiment coming out much more easily than Miranda originally believed it would.

But Jack, still temperamental due to her own emotions, just shoved her shoulder and snapped, “Go fuck your—”

“ _Jack,_ ” Miranda stressed, cupping the woman’s cheeks in her hands to get her attention as she looked down at her imploringly. She didn’t want to fight; if they both kept up their stupid bravado, this could go on for ages. Jack’s eyes met hers, and her angry curse died on her lips. “I’m _sorry,_ ” Miranda stressed, her voice barely above a whisper. It caused the convict to let out a slow breath that she had seemingly been holding inside of her, and Miranda could feel the woman’s anger begin to fall away from the wall she had constructed.

“I panicked,” Miranda admitted softly, hoping that the revelation wouldn’t be held over her head. She really couldn’t deal with that right now, and yet avoiding the issue hadn’t been getting her anywhere either, so maybe it was about time that she provided Jack with the truth.

“The fuck are you panicking for?” Jack demanded, like she was being stupid for ever entertaining the notion of being freaked out by this, even though the hypocrisy in the statement was laughable. Jack’s volatile temperament was nothing more than a way for her to mask her own emotional insecurities, and the more that it happened, the more Miranda began to learn to see through it. Jack was surprisingly easy to read, if only someone cared to look close enough.

“Because I don’t know if it’s bullshit.”

The silence that followed her statement seemed to envelop Miranda whole, but it didn’t devour her like she thought it would. Instead, she saw some type of emotion flicker behind the other woman’s eyes and, if she didn’t know any better, Miranda would wonder if that was all Jack really needed to hear from her. That was such a terrifying prospect though, that something that caused her so much unrest might actually be the key to Jack’s peace, but even if it was, it was still rather obvious that neither of them knew what to do with it. Maybe, in the end, all Jack really needed was the comfort that she wasn’t alone in her confusion.

“Hey!” A banging noise came from above them, no doubt Shepard hitting the wall to get their attention without actually coming downstairs, probably worried about what state she’d find the two of them in. “EDI says the IFF is fully integrated, I need both of you upstairs in two minutes; let’s go!”

Miranda, who had sprung off of Jack at the first sound of Shepard’s voice, exhaled a long breath as she tore her gaze away from the other woman to have it land on the floor. So much for that conversation; time had run out, and now it was either do or die. She just hoped she was ready for it; she hoped that they all were.

“We should… probably get going,” Miranda told her, albeit a little awkwardly as she rose from the cot. She had no idea where she and Jack stood, but maybe it was for the better; getting into this conversation now might just prove to be pointless in the end, if neither of them ended up making it out of the Collector base alive.

But as Miranda started to make her way towards the stairs, she was stopped by the sound of Jack’s voice. “Hey— Cheerleader.” Miranda turned to face her then, watching a conflicting set of emotions pass over the convict’s face for a moment before she told her, “Don’t fucking die, okay?”

Miranda gave her a small smile, the pit of her stomach twisting in knots that wasn’t entirely due to the nerves that came with what they would soon be facing. 

“You either.”

[x]

They had survived.

Not only them but… but _everyone,_ even down to the last crew member. It was like a billion to one odds, and yet somehow they had managed to pull through. It didn’t seem real; it was like the world around Miranda was distorted and fuzzy, and for a brief moment, she seriously contemplated the theory that she _had_ died, and this was just what her afterlife looked like. But the throbbing pain in her right arm told a different story, and Miranda turned away from the chaos in front of her to look down at her festering wound, her stomach twisting in her gut with an overwhelming sickness at the sight of it. 

It had been a foolish mistake, allowing that husk to get so close to her, but in retrospect, she would much rather deal with this pain than be lying lifelessly on that Collector ship.

“Get out of the way!” Shepard shouted to everyone, trying to clear a path as Garrus held a convulsing Tali in his arms. “ _Move!_ ”

Miranda’s heart clenched in her chest, the sight before her reminding her that this still wasn’t over yet. They all may have made it out alive, but there wasn’t any guarantee that they were staying that way. Tali’s environment suit was torn near the end of the fight, and there was a very real possibility that she could die from the exposure. She watched them rush the woman to medical, before her attention was drawn away to the sound of someone swearing.

“Leave it, you shits—I’m fine; see to the girl!”

Jacob and Thane were holding up a battered Zaeed, who’s leg was bent in a gnarly angle. “You can’t _walk—_ ” Jacob tried, but Zaeed just brushed that off like it was nothing.

“You think this is the first time I’ve broken a bone, boy? Just set me down and help someone that fucking needs it; I can take care of myself.”

Miranda very much doubted that he would be able to reset that without the help of a doctor, but Tali’s emergency came first, and as such he would have to wait to see Dr. Chakwas. They all would. No one left that base unharmed, but they all had varying degrees of injury, and thus would no doubt be prioritized in terms of severity. Miranda knew that hers wasn’t as bad as others, and so in an effort to save the doctor some time, she slipped away into her cabin to tend to it herself.

As she entered her quarters, everything around her still seemed like a dream. Shock, quite possibly, that things had turned out the way they did; Miranda had expected to bury quite a lot of her crew today, or to not even make it out alive herself. It made just _breathing_ right now all the more surreal, and as she grabbed the medi-gel out of her cabinet, Miranda sat down heavily on her bed and stared at the wall for a good, long moment.

This shouldn’t have been possible, and yet…

Miranda forced herself out of her stupor as she squirted a generous amount of the healing salve into her hand. When she placed it on the deep gash on her arm she hissed in pain, her brow creasing in distress as it felt like a hot flame against her skin. It would cleanse the wound though and begin the healing process, although whether or not more action would have to be taken, she’d have to wait and see. Medi-gel could heal a lot, but it was more meant to be a temporary solution until an actual doctor could be seen, at least if you wished to prevent scarring.

“—Hey.”

Miranda’s attention was suddenly diverted by the sound of a greeting, and as she snapped her head up her gaze landed on the bruised and battered form of Jack in her doorway. Her stomach twisted in her gut, this sense of happiness to be laying eyes on her again quickly becoming mixed with a fierce feeling of anxiety. She had purposely avoided Jack after they had all returned, not knowing what to say or how to feel; Miranda could barely think as it was, and she didn’t want to do or say anything until their adrenaline from the fight had calmed, and they had had a moment for things to return to normal.

Jack, however, apparently did not feel the same way.

“Hi,” Miranda breathed, the overwhelming situation causing her voice to drop a few octaves. She watched Jack step a little further into the room before closing the door behind her, and it was there that she stood for a long moment, apparently not knowing what to say or do either now that she was actually in front of her.

Finally though, Jack nodded her head towards Miranda’s arm. “That shit’s gonna need stitches.”

“I…” Miranda began, before forcing her eyes away from Jack and allowing her gaze to rest on her wound. The medi-gel had cleared it up quite a bit and managed to clot the blood, but Jack was right; if she hoped to walk away from this with minimal scarring, she would need it seen to. Still, her vanity issues were far down the ladder of importance, and so she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter; I’ll be fine.”

“Nah, fuck that; I can fix it,” Jack dismissed, crossing the room towards her as she dug something out of her deep cargo pants pockets. When her hand emerged holding a small kit, Miranda’s eyebrows rose.

“You just… carry that around?”

“Got in the habit,” Jack answered as she sat next to Miranda on the bed, opening the small container to reveal what looked like an emergency medical kit. Miranda noticed Jack wince badly at the change of position, but she didn’t think much of it, as like the rest of them, she looked like she had been through the wringer. The pain in Jack’s expression faded though and shrugged lightly, keeping her tone relatively neutral as she revealed, “When you’re on the run, hospitals and shit are out; you’d be found in ten minutes flat. So, I dunno, I kinda… learned to do some stuff; survival and all that crap— whatever you wanna call it.”

Miranda bit the inside of her cheek as she watched Jack begin to sterilize her equipment, all of this guilt weighing heavy in the pit of her stomach at the life the other woman was forced to lead because of a corperation that _she_ worked for. “I’m so sorry, Jack,” Miranda breathed, unable to keep it in any longer; she didn’t want Jack to think she was pitying her, but she needed her to know that she truly felt terrible about what she had been subjected to. “For what Cerberus did to you; for what they took from you.”

A normal life; a chance to grow up happy and loved. Instead, the woman was regarded as little more than a lab rat and it just wasn’t… it wasn’t _right._ Miranda looked at Jack as she was now, and couldn’t help but wonder what she would have been like if she hadn’t spent most of her life being abused and experimented on. Would she smile more, would she laugh? It broke Miranda’s heart to realize that she had rarely seen either of those things, as they came hand in hand with a sense of happiness that the scars from her past would, most likely, never allow Jack to truly have. 

“Why?” Jack countered, but her voice sounded a little tight and she wouldn’t look at her as she focused on threading the needle. “Wasn’t you.”

Hearing Jack affirm that she was aware that Miranda didn’t have any direct involvement in what happened to her lifted a weight off of the operative that she didn’t realize had been crushing her before then. Jack had always blamed her because she was Cerberus as well, but perhaps what had been developing between them had forced the other woman to see the truth; if for nothing else, than to rationalize her own feelings. And Miranda, who had previously found herself accepting that Jack would most likely always see her as part of the villains in her nightmare, realized she wasn’t entirely certain of what to do with her newfound independence in the other woman’s eyes; her sudden awareness that she was now an actual person to Jack, and not part of a larger whole, was a little startling and unexpected.

Miranda looked at Jack for a long moment before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss against the other woman’s forehead. Jack stiffened, yet her eyelashes fluttered to her cheeks as Miranda breathed against her skin, “I know… but I’m still sorry that it happened to you.” She stayed there for as long as she was allotted, but eventually Jack found herself uncomfortable with the sentiment and the closeness and she quickly rolled her neck to get away from the other woman. 

“The fuck ever, okay? Shit happens; don’t gotta make a thing out of it,” she dismissed, her brow creasing in irritation at Miranda’s broaching of such a sensitive subject. Picking up the needle, Jack turned to her and ordered a change of subject with a firm, “Now just shut up and hold still.”

Miranda did as she was told, suddenly realizing much too late that she hadn’t even questioned this; that she just instinctively trusted Jack to be able to stitch up her wound. It was that, more than the tattoo-covered convict with a needle in her hand that actually unnerved Miranda the most. Still, she stayed silent, letting the other woman work; broaching her concerns about the changing level of trust between them would only bring up a conversation that neither of them were ready to have yet.

But when Jack raised her arm to try to get the needle into position, she hissed in pain and immediately dropped it. Miranda’s expression immediately colored in concern. “What? What is it?” she asked, taking in the other woman’s demeanor. “What’s wrong?”

“Fuck, nothing; probably just broke a rib or some shit,” Jack responded after inhaling a sharp breath, trying to get herself in a more comfortable position. She shook her head though, apparently intent on just _waving it off._ “Whatever, I can deal with it; just try not to move a lot so I can—”

“Jack, no,” Miranda responded, clutching the other woman’s wrist in her hand before she could raise her arm again. “I’m not going to let you hurt yourself just so I don’t scar. It’s fine; I’m _fine._ ”

“Fuck off; I said I can deal with it, alright?” Jack countered, apparently irritated at what she no doubt perceived as a weakness. “I know how to handle pain; shit just took me by surprise, is all. Besides, I already said I’d fix your arm, so just stop fucking babying me and hold still.”

But Miranda wouldn’t let go of her wrist, and the other woman couldn’t exactly get out of her hold either unless she used force which would, no doubt, put an unnecessary strain on her ribs. “Jack—Jack, _stop,_ ” she demanded, feeling Jack trying to struggle against her regardless of whether or not it would hurt her. But she wasn’t about to let her do this; in the end, she could live with a damn scar. 

“What the fuck, Cheerleader; what part of ‘I can handle it’ do you not fucking—!”

“Jack, please just— hey, _hey_ … look at me,” Miranda coaxed, using her other hand to cup the woman’s cheek and guide her gaze to meet hers. Jack looked irritated beyond belief, but Miranda dropped her tone to a more soothing level as she gave her a small smile. “Thank you,” she softly expressed, wanting Jack to know that she was grateful, “for offering to do this for me, but I’m okay with having a scar; really.”

“Bullshit,” Jack countered, but at least she wasn’t struggling against her anymore. “I’ve seen your body; every fucking inch of you is perfect, so you’ve obviously cared enough to prevent them before.”

Miranda’s smile turned a little sad, and it was she who broke eye contact as she let Jack go. “Yes, well… perhaps perfection is more a hindrance than an advantage,” she admitted, sharing a secret speculation that she had constantly agonized over since she was a little girl. “I think I might like to test that theory, at least once.”

Jack pursed her lips, hearing the distress in Miranda’s voice through her feigned optimism that perhaps this might be good for her, as she feared that if it wasn’t, then her father would be right; that she truly was nothing more than the sum of the assets that _he_ had provided for her. Miranda wanted to be more than that; she wanted to be _worth_ more than that.

“Beauty’s shit anyway,” Jack agreed, but her voice was barely above an angry mumble as her gaze was firmly planted on the floor. “Gives people something to rip from you; you’re probably better off letting yourself get marked up a bit, less people will notice you that way.”

Miranda’s heart clenched in her chest at those words, but she said nothing. She understood the implication, but she also knew that if she tried to ask about it, Jack would shut down. They might finally be learning to trust one another, but that trust only went so far; and _that…_ if Jack was implying what Miranda thought she was, then that was definitely something that their relationship was not ready for. Jack, as it was, already had a hard enough time admitting that she was in physical pain because she considered it a weakness, and her emotional insecurities had always been a far, far greater issue. In the end, Miranda knew that she would never talk about it. Not right now anyway; not as they were.

Still, wanting to give the other woman some sort of comfort, Miranda laced her fingers into Jack’s hand, holding it tightly against her own. Her eyes took in the word DEATH painted across the convict’s knuckles, and Miranda couldn’t help but wonder if Jack’s full body art and shaved head held more purpose than just to cause her to appear intimidating. Miranda had assumed before that Jack would associate fear with strength, and no doubt made herself look ‘scary’ so that no one would even think to make her a victim again, but maybe there was more to it than that; maybe because of whatever had happened to her, Jack had made the conscious decision to strip herself of everything that made her conventionally ‘beautiful’. Maybe all of this… maybe it wasn’t her armor; maybe it was her _shield._

The two women were silent for a long time, just sitting there with their fingers laced together, before Jack finally allowed her gaze to rest on their linked hands. “It’s not bullshit… is it?” she asked softly, and for the life of her, Miranda couldn’t tell if she believed that to be a good or bad thing.

“I don’t know,” Miranda admitted, her voice just as quiet. “With everything that’s happened, I’m still so…” But she couldn’t find the word to properly describe how she felt, and she shook her head and sighed. “Everything’s a blur; it’s almost surreal to me that we’re even sitting here right now and I just—I can’t think, Jack. I can’t think and I don’t know what’s happening anymore. But…” Pursing her lips, Miranda fought past the trepidation she felt for admitting such a thing, and told her in a resigned tone, “But it’s starting to look like we might have fucked up.”

“ _We?_ ” Jack countered, like she wasn’t sure whether or not she wanted Miranda to include her in these feelings right now. But Miranda just gestured gently with their linked hands, the movement almost lifeless as she proved her point and relinquished the hope that this wasn’t going to turn into something emotionally dangerous for the both of them.

“Considering you haven’t pulled away yet; yeah… I think _we_ fucked up.”

Jack exhaled a long breath, but she still didn’t move away from Miranda’s touch. And then finally, softly, the other woman spoke, sounding just as resigned and full of trepidation as she did. “Yeah,” she agreed, gently allowing her thumb to trace one of Miranda’s knuckles as her brow creased in distress over what this might mean. “I think we really fucking did…”

**TBC…**


	7. VII

**VII.**

When Miranda awoke the next morning, she was alone.

And considering the huge deal Jack made when _she_ had snuck out of the bed they had been sharing the other night, Miranda’s first instinct was to become upset by the blatant hypocrisy. But then she noticed a small scrap of paper on the pillow next to her, and as Miranda blinked the sleep out of her eyes and took it in her hand, she found she had to squint in order to make out the chicken scratch that was the other woman’s handwriting.

_Down in medical._ That’s it; that’s all it said, and yet Miranda found herself suppressing a smile that Jack had cared enough to leave her a note. It said something that yes, after last night she was already aware of, yet it was still nice to be reaffirmed that whatever she was feeling, it definitely wasn’t one sided.

They had slept together last night; just _slept,_ not had sex for what seemed like the first time in ages, although that wasn’t for Jack’s lack of trying. In the end though, her rib injury hindered quite a lot of movement, and not five minutes into it she was swearing up a storm and cursing the Collectors, Cerberus, and Shepard, because apparently it was all their fault that she couldn’t get laid. It would have been a little funny, if Miranda hadn’t felt so terrible for her; Jack had been conditioned to garner pleasure from violence, and after the fight they had at the Collector Base, she was bound to be wound up fairly tightly. But what could she really do? Until she had been checked out by Dr. Chakwas, Miranda didn’t want to risk hurting her or making the injury worse.

Which was what she had told her, so really, Miranda wasn’t surprised at all that Jack had gone down there first thing this morning. It was a little ridiculous, as Miranda doubted that Jack would have cared much about getting her ribs checked out otherwise, but so long as she was getting herself seen to, Miranda was happy. And it was such a strange thing to realize, honestly, that she seemed to care quite a bit about the other woman’s wellbeing. She hadn’t expected any of this, had certainly not been _looking_ for something like this, but now that she had it, Miranda couldn’t bring herself to hate it as much as she probably should.

Because this really was a mess waiting to happen, wasn’t it? So, logically, she should despise that this was even happening right now. They were both emotionally stunted people without a clue how to go about having an actual relationship; they couldn’t even express their feelings to each other outside of agreeing that maybe things between them weren’t ‘bullshit’ after all, and that yes, they probably ended up ‘fucking up.’ Granted, Miranda had never had the relationship conversation before, but she was fairly certain it was supposed to be more in depth than _that,_ because right now, she honestly didn’t have a clue where they stood.

Was Jack her girlfriend? Did she _want_ a girlfriend? That seemed like an awful lot of commitment that Miranda didn’t know if she would even have time for, because now that they had destroyed the Collector Base, who knew what the next step was; who knew that they would even be together on this ship come a week or two from now? There were too many variables, and quite honestly just thinking about it made her head hurt. And yet in the end, did it even matter if she couldn’t logically see this working out? Could she now, after realizing that she saw something in Jack, just walk away from it all and never look back?

In some ways, that scared Miranda even more than staying. Before, when the threat of imminent death was looming over their heads, Miranda had thought about all the things she never got to experience; and now, when she was being presented with a second chance, it seemed wrong to just turn around and run scared from it. It was like spitting in her own face, as clearly she had wished for something like this, so what was the problem?

The problem was that she was probably getting way ahead of herself, as how did she even know that a relationship was something that _Jack_ wanted? It wasn’t as though they had spoken about it; after admitting that they had screwed up somewhere along the way and developed feelings, they had immediately tried to bring their interaction around to something more natural, which was where the attempted sex had come in. It was just easier, in the end, to speak with their bodies, rather than their words.

And when that didn’t work, they decided against speaking at all, and just allowed exhaustion from the day’s events to overtake them as they fell asleep in one another’s arms. Honestly, it hadn’t even been discussed, Jack staying the night. It had just… happened. It just seemed like the natural thing to do, and so neither of them questioned it.

God, she needed to stop _thinking._ This was far too much introspection before her morning cup of coffee, and so Miranda forced herself out of bed and into the shower, not wanting to be found just sitting around waiting for Jack to come back.

If she even _was_ coming back. Her note didn’t say that she was, after all; it only stated where she had gone. So what if she didn’t end up coming back at all, and Miranda was just left waiting there like some kind of—

_Oh my god, stop bloody thinking about her!_ Miranda practically shouted inside her own head, before allowing her forehead to land heavily against the tiled wall of the shower. And it was there that she stayed, eyes closed as the water cascaded down her back, until she heard the door to her private bathroom open. 

“You better not be fucking yourself in there,” Jack called out, her outline just barely visible through the mosaic glass of the shower and the steam that had enveloped the room. “Because if I can’t get off, neither can you.”

Miranda rolled her eyes and pushed herself off the wall. “Bad news, I take it?”

“I cracked three fucking ribs. _Three,_ ” Jack answered irritably as she came entirely into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. “Doc says I have to be ‘careful’ for an entire week; I don’t even know the fucking meaning of that word.”

Miranda snorted softly as she rinsed the conditioner out of her hair. Truer words had never been spoken; and if Jack had been taken off of active duty for the next week, Miranda knew it was likely that the woman would soon be going out of her mind with boredom. Miranda felt bad for her, but at the same time, it could have been far worse, so her gratefulness ended up far outweighing her sympathy.

“You’ll survive, I’m sure.”

“Fuck you, this is bullshit,” Jack cursed, obviously frustrated by circumstances beyond her control. “Why is it that Zaeed can break his fucking leg in two different places and be expected to walk by tomorrow, and yet I’m stuck being some helpless pussy for an entire week?”

“Because advances in modern medicine have only gotten so far, and like it or not, the ribs are still a difficult place to heal,” Miranda answered patiently, closing her eyes as she stepped under the stream of water. She hadn’t realized how badly she needed a shower until she had stepped in there; not just because she had the evidence of yesterday’s battle on her skin, but because bathing had always been a rather calming experience for her.

Save the very _un_ calm woman that currently resided in her bathroom.

“Did you see Tali?” Miranda asked instead, trying to steer Jack away from the conversation about her own physical shortcomings. Besides, there were far more worrisome health issues aboard this ship than Jack’s ribs. “Is she alright, do you know?”

“She’s still unconscious; hooked up to a whole bunch of crap, but Doc said she’d be fine. Dunno if she was lying to me though, or just lying to herself. Shit looked bad.”

Miranda bit the inside of her cheek, but said nothing. She hoped Tali would pull through, but was it really likely that they would all come out of this unscathed? Miranda hated to think that way, but a part of her felt like they had just gotten too lucky, and it was only a matter of time before that luck ran out. 

Trying not to think about it though, Miranda ran her fingers through her wet tresses as she called out, “Are you actually planning on joining me, or would you rather stand out there all day?”

Silence.

“…Jack?”

Miranda began to worry that she had somehow managed to say something wrong, when the two of them naked in the shower seemed far more normal than the fact that they were even having a real conversation that didn’t have to do with sex or ‘hating’ one another, but then Jack finally spoke. Her voice was barely above a mumble, clearly embarrassed over what she was about to admit. “…Not supposed to be bending down.”

Miranda’s brow creased. “So?”

“So I don’t think I can take off my fucking pants, okay?”

Miranda had to actually place her hand over her lips to stop herself from laughing at that. It wasn’t funny, not really, but the way Jack said it, it just—her frustration was rather… adorable. Which was such a terribly dangerous thing to think, emotionally wise, and yet she couldn’t help it; Jack’s relentless irritability somehow managed to make her smile at times.

“—If you’re trying not to laugh at me, I swear to God.”

“I’m not,” Miranda assured her, even though it was a flat out lie. Suppressing her smirk, Miranda pushed open the shower door and encouraged, “Come here.” But then her brow creased as she took in the sight of the other woman, and she had to ask, “Why are you _topless?_ ”

“You think I could get my harness on this morning? The fucking pants were hard enough!” Jack snapped, which made Miranda pinch the bridge of her nose as she realized what that meant.

“So you’ve been walking around the ship topless all morning?”

Donnelly must have _loved_ that.

“Well what the hell else was I supposed to do?” Jack countered as she crossed the space between them. “I’d probably crack two more of my ribs if I tried to get into one of your slut-suits.”

“—Excuse me?”

For what might be the first time ever, Jack actually looked guilty about what had come out of her mouth. And then, to top off that unexpected surprise, she even coupled it with an apology. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, although sounded resigned to even utter that word, like somehow with it, she was losing a part of herself. In a way though, Miranda could relate; everything that had happened between them thus far, everything that she felt, was so unlike her that sometimes it made Miranda feel like she was losing everything that made her _her._ This certainly wasn’t the person she thought she was, and yet maybe in the end, that might actually be a good thing. “Habit, or whatever.”

Miranda pursed her lips, feeling a little touched that Jack had actually apologized to her. Which was ridiculous really, and yet as she had never once heard Jack apologize for anything before, she knew what it meant and that… _that_ meant something to her as well. “Just come here,” she encouraged softly, grabbing one of the ties on Jack’s cargo pants before gently guiding her over to the threshold of the shower.

She gently kissed her as she undid the woman’s pants, breaking the contact only momentarily as she bent down to push the fabric down Jack’s thighs until it gave way and fell to the ground of its own accord. “I might like having to play nursemaid for you this week,” Miranda admitted as she chuckled against her lips and guided Jack into the shower with her.

“Fuck you, I’m not incompetent,” Jack cursed into her mouth, her hands slowly mapping the curves of the operative’s wet figure, no doubt trying to see how much her broken body would allow her to get away with. Thus far, it seemed like she could reach all the important parts, at least; but there was a big difference between feeling each other up and fucking, which Jack’s body would _not_ be able to handle right then.

At least not in the way they normally had sex.

Miranda smirked as she nibbled her way down the other woman’s neck, causing Jack to roll her head backwards and groan softly. “There’s nothing wrong with needing a little help, Jack. Besides, if I can _undress_ you, I suppose it stands to reason that I should dress you as well; have it come full circle, if you will.”

“I’m not a fucking child, Miranda.”

“Then stay naked for all I care; I certainly wouldn’t complain about it,” Miranda countered before allowing her lips to wrap around the base of her neck, her light sucking causing Jack’s scoff at her remark to turn into a low moan. “ _Or,_ ” she stressed, being gentle with her exploration of the other woman’s breasts, so as to not put too much pressure on her ribs. “I could ask Shepard to dock us somewhere where we could get you an acceptable wardrobe.”

“Yeah right, you’d probably stick me in a goddamn dress.”

Miranda’s eyebrow arched at that, intrigued by that mental picture, and Jack shot her a look like she had to be mentally deficient for even contemplating the idea. “I’ll kill you,” she warned, which just made Miranda chuckle as she leaned down to pepper kisses all along the convict’s neck once more, enjoying the way that Jack instinctively rolled her neck to give her all the room that she needed. 

“Might be worth it.”

“Screw you. Just help me get on my regular fucking clothes, okay?” Jack shot back in a slightly breathier tone, apparently deeming that to be the lesser of two evils. In a way, it was still a win, so Miranda was glad that she had at least managed to get Jack to agree to _some_ level of caretaking. 

“Fuck,” Jack groaned, Miranda’s wandering hand having fallen between her thighs to explore the vast amount of wetness that had settled between them. “You seriously need to stop doing that, I’m not supposed to—”

“Shh,” Miranda breathed before she allowed her lips to find Jack’s once more, kissing the protest from off her tongue. She had an idea, and although maybe it wasn’t the smartest one in the world, she also knew that if it worked, it would make the other woman feel exponentially better. “Do you trust me…?”

“That’s a loaded fucking question, Cheerleader.”

“Well then do you trust me to get you off?” Miranda asked instead, the words being breathed against the convict’s lips as she stopped her movement, and waited for a response. In the end, if Jack didn’t want to risk it, then she wouldn’t either, but she wanted her to at least have the option.

“I’d gladly kill twelve fucking people right now if it meant you could get me off,” Jack responded without hesitation, her voice tight from the pent up desire that had been brewing within her ever since last night. Miranda knew it was killing her; with how she was conditioned, it had to be. And with the way her ribs were, it was doubtful that she could even masturbate without hurting herself.

“Front or back?” Miranda asked, but apparently she should have been more specific about what she meant, because Jack’s brow creased in confusion.

“What?”

“Your ribs,” Miranda elaborated. “Are they cracked in the front or the back, did Dr. Chakwas tell you?”

“Front,” Jack answered, although she still looked confused on why she was asking. “All on the left side. Why?”

But Miranda didn’t answer her, still playing twenty questions before she embarked on this little task. She needed to make sure she could do this, although she probably should have asked this _before_ practically promising Jack that she could. “And she gave you something for the pain?”

“Yeah, but not a lot; just so I can… I don’t know, fucking function regularly or whatever. She said she couldn’t take it away completely cause I needed to be _aware_ of when I was overexerting myself or some bullshit.”

“Good,” Miranda breathed, glad she could work with that; or, at least, she hoped she could. One way or another though, they were about to find out. Bringing her fingers up to her lips, Miranda slowly dragged her tongue around each digit, licking off Jack’s arousal and, with it, capturing the convict’s full attention. “Get into a comfortable position against the wall.”

Jack immediately backed up, but Miranda had to snatch the woman’s wrist in her hand before she just collided with the tile. “I said _comfortable,_ Jack; don’t hurt yourself before we’ve already started. Be gentle with yourself, for Christ’s sake.”

Jack rolled her eyes, but did as she was told anyway, slowly standing so her back was completely against the wall. Miranda bit her lower lip softly as she approached her. “I’m going to warn you,” she told her softly, “this might not be the most erotic thing in the world, but at least it will get the job done.”

“My pussy’s a job for you now, Cheerleader?” Jack countered, but she didn’t sound irritated by it; if anything, she sounded a little amused.

“Well if it _is…_ ” Miranda drawled, holding her arm lengthwise across Jack’s collar bone as she allowed her hip to press into the right side of Jack’s own, effectively pinning her in place. “It’s one I very much enjoy doing.” She paused then, wetting her bottom lip before she asked, “Is this okay for you; does it hurt?”

“No, but I’m wondering what the fuck you’re doing.”

“I know how you get, and this is to restrict movement of your upper body and hips when I do this; hopefully this way you won’t hurt yourself.”

“Hot,” Jack deadpanned, and she was right; this seemed far more technical than erotic, but she did warn her.

“Shut up, I’m trying to do you a favor,” Miranda countered, arching an eyebrow. “Now do you want that orgasm or not?”

Jack pursed her lips, quickly nodding her head before Miranda allowed her free hand to get lost between her thighs again. She slowly stroked the woman’s slit, dipping a little lower to get her fingers wet with Jack’s arousal before spreading it over her clit. With the position she was in, she could do little more than that, and in the end, it really was more like assisted masturbation than anything else. But Miranda had to be careful to only put pressure on her collar bone and hip, afraid that if she leaned her entire body against hers that she would hurt her. As such, she couldn’t even kiss her, but she found that wasn’t entirely terrible as this way, she could clearly watch the pleasure etch itself across Jack’s expression as she softly stimulated her.

“Fuck,” Jack swore, trying to use her hips to push towards Miranda’s hand, which the operative had to put a little more pressure on to still. “Come on, don’t fucking tease me.”

“Shh,” Miranda breathed, her voice so low it could barely be heard over the sound of the water hitting the base of the shower floor. “Just close your eyes and relax.”

“I’ve been pent up since last night, and you want me to fucking _relax?_ ”

“If you want to come, then yes; I expect that you’ll do what I say,” Miranda told her, taking her hand away from the apex of the other woman’s thighs for a moment as she licked the wetness from off her fingers. She desperately wished that she could go down on her, as a part of her seemed to crave the taste of Jack like she was her last supper, but she didn’t trust the convict to keep herself still while she did so. 

“You bitch,” Jack gasped as Miranda’s fingers slipped over her hardening nub once more. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“What, having you at _my_ mercy for once?” Miranda asked, a slow smirk crossing her face as she started rubbing slow, tight circles. “Maybe I am.”

“—Screw you.”

The curse sounded resigned however, and Jack eventually just leaned her head back against the tile of the wall, and did as she was told as she closed her eyes. Miranda watched her expression with interest as she began the slow process of building Jack to an orgasm that didn’t come from her desperation, her power, or her control. Miranda took note of the changes in her breath, in the shallow way that her chest began to rise and fall as her cheeks became flushed and her lips parted in pleasure. Jack’s moans were soft, needy and sexy as the pleasure began to build inside of her; and the more it grew, the more pressure Miranda found she needed to place on the other woman to keep her from moving too much. 

“Shit… _shit,_ ” Jack breathed, her eyes still firmly shut as her brow creased and that flush in her cheeks began to travel downwards, spreading across her chest and causing her nipples to stiffen and darken. “Miran—f… _fuck…_ ”

Miranda’s stomach tightened in an excitement she wasn’t expecting when she head Jack almost say her name. She knew how Jack got when she said _hers,_ but she hadn’t fathomed that it would provide her with the same response; but in the end, it seemed Miranda desperately wanted that kind of validation, and so she begged shamelessly, “Say my name.”

“Fuck you,” Jack gasped, her hips beginning to strain against the operative’s hold as her breath came out in short, uneven bursts.

“Please,” Miranda pleaded, her voice soft and broken with her own desire to hear it; to watch as Jack begged for _her_ to give her the release she was seeking. “I want to hear you say it, I want to hear you—”

But the back of Jack’s head collided with the tile wall as the pleasure etched deeper in her expression, cutting off Miranda’s words with a, “Fuck,” followed by a deep moan. Miranda felt a hand clap around her wrist then, fingernails digging into her skin as Jack demanded she provide her with a release for the tension that had mounted in the pit of her abdomen. “Miranda,” she breathed, and God, it was easily the sexiest fucking thing the operative had ever heard. “Just fucking… just—I need…!”

And Miranda, understanding what she meant, gave it to her. After taking a moment to make sure she had enough pressure on Jack to keep her pinned, suddenly Miranda sped up the pace of her fingers, rubbing fast, tight circles against the woman’s clit until Jack was panting and swearing, her body fighting against hers as Miranda tried desperately to keep her still. But then Jack’s lips parted in a wide O, a violent shudder running her through her body as she came. Her knees buckled from underneath her, but with the hold Miranda had on her, she didn’t fall. Instead she just kind of stayed there, limp and panting, as a slow smile made its way across Miranda’s face.

“You’re beautiful when you come, you know,” she breathed, slipping an arm around the woman’s waist on her uninjured side as she gently kissed the underside of her jaw, her neck, the base of her ear. Jack murmured softly, contently, as she leaned her head against hers, eyes still closed.

“Ain’t nothing beautiful about me, princess,” she mumbled against her skin, and the way she said it, like it was just some fact that she had learned to disassociate herself from, broke Miranda’s heart.

“You’re wrong.”

“Fuck you,” Jack breathed, still sounding kind of out of it as she tried to push herself off of the other woman. “Just because we screwed up, doesn’t mean you have to spew romantic bullshit at me. I know what the fuck I look like, and I did it for a goddamn reason.”

Miranda pursed her lips, but said nothing as she let her go. She felt foolish for saying something like that, because she knew Jack’s feelings about beauty. Of course she wouldn’t take it as a compliment, when she seemed to hate the very idea of it. “I’m sorry,” she softly apologized, her gaze resting on anything but the woman in front of her. “I just… got caught up in the moment, I guess. I’ll let you—I’ll just let you wash up…”

Jack rolled her eyes as Miranda turned to leave, and implored with an impatient sounding, “ _Miranda._ ” The operative turned before she reached the shower door, and Jack gestured towards herself. “I can barely take off my fucking clothes; you think I can reach everything that needs to be cleaned right now?”

Oh. Right.

Miranda chewed on the inside of her cheek as she returned to her, but Jack grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her the rest of the way. The movement almost made Miranda stumble into her, but her hand hit the wall behind Jack before she could collide into her and possibly cause the woman more injury. Jack seemed to barely notice though. 

“Jesus, stop looking like I killed your fucking puppy,” she said softly as she took Miranda’s chin in her hand, kissing the pout off of the woman’s lips. “I just don’t like being called that; don’t make a thing out of it.”

“I’m not trying to,” Miranda breathed, her head tilting back as Jack began placing hot, open mouthed kisses down the length of her neck. “I just… I felt _bad_ when it upset you—”

“Well don’t,” Jack ordered, nipping gently at the other woman’s shoulder. “A lot of shit’s gonna upset me. I have fucking issues; just ignore them.”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “What is that, the fine print on getting into a relationship with you?”

That word made Jack freeze, her lips pressed firmly against Miranda’s skin as the steady thumping of the water hitting the shower floor was the only sound that filled the room. Miranda felt herself hold her breath, inwardly cursing herself for not thinking before she spoke, but then Jack opened her mouth, and the question she asked was both quiet and tentative. “That what this is, Cheerleader?”

Miranda pursed her lips, wishing her heart didn’t start hammering so hard inside her chest. Suddenly, she was terribly nervous, as this was it; this was the conversation that they needed to have, despite the fact that neither of them really knew how to. “I don’t… I don’t know,” Miranda answered, stumbling a little over her words. “Is that… is a relationship something you would even want?”

“I dunno,” Jack mumbled against her skin, and if Miranda didn’t know any better, it was like she was trying to hide in her neck. This conversation seemed to make the convict feel a little insecure, which honestly Miranda was thankful for, because she was far from comfortable with it herself. But in the end, that might just turn out to be a bad thing, because they could get stuck in an endless loop without any real answers. “ _You_ want one?”

“I… don’t really know.”

Case and point.

Miranda pressed her lips against Jack’s forehead, her soft sigh the only thing that broke the silence for a long moment. “Well maybe… maybe we don’t have to label it,” she tried softly. _Or talk about it,_ Miranda finished in her head. _Since we’re clearly terrible at it._

“So we just… what, keep fucking each other?” Jack asked, pulling away a little in order to catch Miranda’s gaze. The operative shrugged awkwardly as she chewed on her bottom lip, feeling so entirely out of her element. But Jack seemed just as unsure, and Miranda couldn’t help but think that the woman was rather endearing when she was insecure about something. 

“Do you… _want_ to keep fucking me?” Miranda asked carefully, just wanting to make sure they were on the same page.

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” Jack asked, like she was being stupid. “Obviously, dumbass.”

Well, at least she didn’t have any insecurities in _that_ area, but then again, sex had always been rather easy for them. Miranda smiled around the lip that was trapped between her teeth, and Jack leaned up to nip at the underside of her jaw. “You’re fucking sexy when you do that, you know,” she breathed against her skin, the feeling of her words causing a shiver to run down the operative’s spine.

Miranda’s smile grew wider, not having expected the compliment. “Yeah?”

“Mmm…” Jack murmured, gently nipping her way to the base of Miranda’s ear, before taking her lobe into her mouth and sucking softly on it. Miranda had to stifle a moan as suddenly Jack’s tongue was tracing the shell of her ear, and her thighs begun to grow damp from something other than the shower spray beating down on their naked bodies.

But Miranda turned her head away, her breathing a little uneven as she demanded, “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“Who says I can’t finish it…?”

“I do,” Miranda told her pointedly, stepping away for good measure. “You’re hurt, and fucking me would put too much strain on your body. Don’t worry about me; I’ll finish myself later.”

Jack’s eyebrow quirked. “Can I watch?”

“If you’re good.”

Jack rolled her eyes as she grabbed the body wash off of the rack in Miranda’s shower. “Fuck you, thinking you have all this power while my ribs are fucked,” she cursed her, but she didn’t sound as angry about that as she probably meant to. Making eye contact with Miranda though, she still warned pointedly, no doubt to keep her image intact, “Keep pushing it and when I’m better I’ll tie you to the goddamn bed and refuse to give you an orgasm for an entire _week;_ you’ll be reminded real fucking quick who actually has the power then.”

“Oh, I’m _terrified,_ ” Miranda goaded with a smirk, causing Jack to whip the loofa in her direction. Miranda giggled as she dodged it, causing it to hit the side of the shower and fall to the ground.

“Fucking hate you,” Jack mumbled, lines of irritation etching across her face that weren’t as deep as they used to be when she said something like that to her. “Just shut up and wash my damn back, slave.”

Miranda snorted at that word as she grabbed the loofa off the base of the shower, running it under the water to clean it. “ _Slave_ , now, is it? Someone’s living in their own little delusion, aren’t they?”

Instead of answering, Jack just held out the bottle of body wash, gently swinging it from side to side. Miranda rolled her eyes and snatched it out of her hand, and the confirmation that she was still going to do it made Jack smirk. “See? Slave.”

After squirting a generous amount of the liquid on the loofa, Miranda approached Jack from behind and breathed in her ear, “No.” She watched a shiver roll down Jack’s spine, and Miranda had to remind herself not to get the other woman too riled up, as they really couldn’t do anything about it. And yet still, she reminded her pointedly as she dragged the loofa gently across the expanse of her back, down to the curvature of her ass, “Unless you put a collar on me, you cannot call me that.”

Jack’s breathing noticeably shallowed, no doubt picturing that in her head. “…That your way of saying you’d let me do that?”

Miranda pursed her lips for a moment as she continued to gently wash her, contemplating what she wanted in her head for a moment. “I don’t… want that to be our _dynamic,_ no,” she softly explained, allowing the loofa to run over Jack’s shoulders and down her arms. “But… if you’re good this week, and let me take care of you so you can heal, then maybe we can… _try_ that, at least for a night.”

“—You’re serious?”

“Mhm.”

Jack thought about that for a moment, before she scrunched up her nose. “Are you getting off on this or something?” she asked, realizing how much Miranda was enjoying playing nurse maid. “Taking care of me like I’m some helpless pussy or some shit?”

Miranda bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smirking. “Maybe.”

“So what, I play good little patient for you, and you play helpless slave for me?” Jack questioned, just trying to get the terms of their deal right. 

“Yes,” Miranda confirmed, turning Jack around before she began gently washing her chest, being careful not to put too much pressure on her ribs. Cocking an eyebrow at her once they had made eye contact, she asked, “Interested?”

Jack was silent for a moment, pursing her lips before she amended, “Twenty four hours, not just a night; cause you’re getting this dumb shit for a week straight. Our next shore leave, princess, I _own_ you.” Her lips curling into a devious smirk, Jack reminded her pointedly, “That means not one fucking complaint out of your mouth, no matter what I tell you to do.”

That was such a dangerous deal to make, and yet something about that prospect excited Miranda, and so she nodded her compliance with their new terms. “Deal,” she responded, her tone as though she had merely been brokering weapons for Cerberus, not basically signing away her freedom for an entire day. Jack grinned as she grabbed Miranda’s chin in her hand, pulling her in for a rough kiss.

“Knew I picked you for a reason, Cheerleader,” she growled against her lips, and Miranda couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face at those words, as they were probably the closest Jack was ever going to get to affirming that they had something resembling an actual relationship, despite the fact that both of them were too afraid to actually call it that. 

“Oh, _you_ picked _me,_ did you?” Miranda teased, feeling Jack nip gently on her bottom lip, her hand squeezing the loofa in Miranda’s hand before running the suds across her breasts.

“Got a problem with that?”

Of course Jack had to assert herself as some kind of control figure, no matter what kind of relationship they had; she needed to call the shots, it was just a part of her nature. It made Miranda roll her eyes, but in a way, she actually kind of enjoyed it, as it affirmed that Jack really wanted her. “I probably should,” she breathed, feeling the woman brush her palms gently across her nipples. “But I really, _really_ don’t…”

Jack smiled against her lips then, this entirely genuine smile that lit up her entire face, and Miranda felt this fierce heat ignite in her chest as she returned it in kind, cupped her face, and kissed her well into the water finally running cold. 

Perhaps this, whatever this was supposed to be, might actually work out after all.

**TBC…**


	8. VIII

**VIII.**

Miranda should have known better than to allow herself to sink this far, this fast; especially after what they had been through.

This was precisely why she was concerned about what they were feeling right before they went through the Relay; the prospect of one’s own death does funny things to people and, at the end of the day, so does living through something you expected never to survive. It’s a like a haze; this fog that invades your mind and prevents you from seeing the reality of things. All Miranda wanted was to feel close to someone, and it seemed as though Jack wished for the same asinine thing as well, as they easily fell into something that should have had far more forethought and been put under more scrutiny than it actually was. If anything, what they had was a relationship based on convenience, circumstance, and selfish need.

And yet even still, nothing changed.

Miranda was waiting for it; waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the haze to clear, and for them to both realize that what they were doing wasn’t even what they really wanted, but it had nearly been a week now, and everything remained the same. Miranda found that she was actually rather _happy_ ; and in the end that concerned her, because it certainly couldn’t last. Besides, things were about to change drastically, and Miranda had no idea where that would leave her and Jack’s relationship. And, of course, because they were both emotionally stunted and useless at anything resembling ‘feelings’, they hadn’t talked about an afterwards yet.

Apparently, however, that wasn’t about to last very long.

“Jesus fucking— _stop,_ ” Jack demanded, practically pushing Miranda’s head out from between her thighs as she sat up on the bed.

“Your ribs—” Miranda tried, concerned about how quickly Jack was moving, but the other woman just waved her off. It had been nearly a week after all, and she was close to, if not completely healed by now. Still, Miranda would rather she be careful than end up hurting herself all over again.

“They’re fucking fine; what the hell is wrong with _you?_ ”

Miranda’s brow creased as she pushed herself into a seated position. “What? Nothing.”

“Really?” Jack countered disbelievingly. “‘Cause correct me if I’m wrong, but eating my pussy is like your favorite thing to do, and right now you’re so goddamn distracted and useless that I might as well have a dude down there for all the fucking good it’s doing.”

Miranda sighed, pushing the hair back from her face. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, because Jack was right; she wasn’t really into it right now. She was just worried how all of this was going to play out, and the closer the date loomed without her having any real answers, the more anxious she became. She was already filled with so much trepidation when it came to what it was that she felt for Jack, that all of this piled on top of it made her contemplate exactly how smart it was to even allow herself to form some kind of attachment to another human being.

But Miranda didn’t really know how to broach the conversation, so like usual, she just tried to avoid it completely and told her, “It’s… honestly, it’s nothing. I think I’m just tired or something.”

“Bullshit,” Jack countered, not believing her for a second. “Like I haven’t fucked you when you’re tired; so just… just tell me what the hell is wrong with you so I can actually get a decent orgasm, because otherwise this is just a huge waste.”

Miranda rolled her eyes at Jack’s attempt to sound like she didn’t care. She was used to it by now, as they both would rather pretend this was just about sex than something more – even after having admitted to screwing up – but Jack’s voice always took on this hesitant, yet impatient sounding tone whenever she found herself caring about something more than Miranda’s body; like she was just trying to get past the moment as quickly as possible, and yet still worried that her concern wouldn’t be received well. 

God, they were both such a useless mess when it came to stuff like this; it’s a wonder how they even managed to function as a couple.

Not that they would call themselves that at all if someone asked though; that was far too much commitment than either one of them were comfortable with expressing out loud. Still, whether they liked it or not, what they had with one another closely resembled that of an actual romantic relationship. It was strange, and neither of them really knew what to do with it.

“Jesus Christ, just come here,” Jack demanded, sounding frustrated as she grabbed Miranda’s hand, pulling the operative towards her as she encouraged her to lay half on her right side, their legs tangling together as Miranda rested her head on Jack’s chest. “You always get so fucking pouty and girly about shit; just grow a pair and tell me what the hell crawled up your ass, alright? I don’t want to play bullshit guessing games with you; it’s too early for that crap.” 

“Fuck you,” Miranda countered, but there wasn’t any venom in it; if anything, she just sounded resigned as she realized this conversation needed to happen whether she liked it or not. A small sigh left her lips before she bit the inside of her cheek, allowing her fingers to gently trace the lines of Jack’s tattoos on her abdomen as she tried to find some sort of courage inside of her to talk about this.

After a long moment’s silence, Miranda finally spoke. “Shepard’s decided to turn herself into the Alliance, and I don’t—I _can’t_ follow her down that path. My father will never stop looking for Oriana, and I need to be able to make sure she’s safe; I can’t do that if they detain me for my involvement with Cerberus and what happened on Aratoht.” 

“Fuck the Batarians,” Jack responded heatedly, curling her fingers protectively in Miranda’s hair. “Like the galaxy isn’t better off with less of those raping, slave-trading bastards. We stopped the fucking Reapers from coming through that Relay; the Alliance assholes should be _thanking_ us.”

Miranda pursed her lips, noting the rage in her lover’s voice when she spoke of the Batarians; it sounded personal, and Jack’s mention of rape and slavers made her wrap her arm tightly around the other woman’s waist as she came to a conclusion that caused her stomach to twist into tight knots. She had had her suspicions about some of the abuse in Jack’s past, but Miranda knew far better than to ever ask about it. If Jack wanted to tell her then she would, and as that seemed to be the extent of the revelation, Miranda didn’t push it. 

Nor did she bother to correct Jack that Batarian colonists usually didn’t follow the stereotype of the ones that were filtered throughout the Terminus System either; in the end, the bigger picture still was that the Bahak System needed to be destroyed in order to prevent the Reaper invasion, and so justifying whether they deserved it or not was irrelevant. Still… 

“There were three hundred thousand inhabitants in that system, Jack,” Miranda explained softly. “The Batarian Hegemony is viewing it as an act of terrorism; of course the Alliance is going to try to get in front of it. Reapers or not, politics are always going to come first, and Shepard is an easy person to blame.”

“Alright so whatever,” Jack responded, still failing to see what was bothering the older woman. “I don’t think a single fucking one of is planning to get locked up with her, so what’s your point?”

“So come a few days from now, neither of us is going to be on this ship anymore, Jack. And I don’t—I don’t know what comes next.”

“…Oh.” 

Finally, Jack understood that this wasn’t even about Shepard or the Alliance, but them; it just so happened that their commander’s decision to turn herself in was forcing them to define what it was that they wanted from this relationship, and what they wanted from their own life a lot earlier than expected. They needed to come to a decision about whether or not they wanted to try to pursue this… or if they would rather just sever a clean break and walk away from it all.

And quite frankly, Miranda didn’t know what the better option was at this point.

“So what; you asking if I wanna run away with you or something?” Jack asked, her voice taking on this funny tone that Miranda couldn’t really decipher. She couldn’t tell at all if that was something Jack wanted or not, and so Miranda just shrugged a little self-consciously. 

“I don’t know, I’m just… I’m asking what you want, Jack.”

“How the hell should I know?”

Miranda sighed heavily. She knew this was how this conversation was going to go, as neither of them could ever talk about anything serious. But they needed to; they couldn’t just… they couldn’t pretend that this wasn’t a big deal, especially because…

“I’m thinking of resigning from Cerberus.”

Jack’s hand froze mid-motion in her hair. “—You’re serious?”

Miranda turned her head to meet Jack’s questioning gaze, placing her hand just underneath her breast as she rested her chin atop it. “I’m serious,” she responded softly, wondering how the other woman was going to take that. “I don’t… I feel as though our views no longer align, and frankly I’m concerned about what the Illusive Man plans to do with the Collector Base we handed over to him.”

“Shepard should have just fucking destroyed it,” Jack responded, lines of anger etching across her face. “I swear to god she’s got more screws loose in her head than I do sometimes.”

“It… it honestly seemed like the right thing to do at the time,” Miranda tried to defend, both her commanding officer and herself, because she had agreed with Shepard’s decision at first. “All that technology… it could really help us against the Reapers when they finally invade. But I don’t—I’m not so sure that’s Cerberus’ goal anymore, and now I’m wondering if we did the wrong thing.”

“What the hell are you talking about; what do you think they’re trying to do?”

“I don’t know,” Miranda admitted, sounding a little ashamed of herself for that, because she was so used to knowing nearly everything that went on in Cerberus. “But I used to have intel on quite a lot of high level projects, and now suddenly it’s as though I’ve been cut off; I can’t find anything on what they’re planning on doing with it, and that concerns me because whatever it is, the Illusive Man doesn’t seem to want Shepard finding out about it.”

“That’s shady as fuck.”

Miranda pursed her lips, nodding her agreement. It unsettled her, to have become so wary of the corporation she once so adamantly believed in. After running away from her father, Cerberus became her saving grace; they provided her with safety and a chance to find true independence, true _meaning_ outside of being Henry Lawson’s botched creation. She wanted to make a difference, she wanted to do _right_ by humanity, and yet the more they hid things from her, the more dirty secrets that were uncovered, the less Miranda began to believe that she even belonged there.

It was more than just what Cerberus was planning to do with the Reaper tech, although that was a large part of it. The other part though, was lying on this bed with her. The Illusive Man could claim that he wasn’t aware of the brutality that Jack was being put through, but Miranda had to wonder if the only reason he shut down the facility on Pragia was to cover his own arse _because_ Jack had escaped. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Cerberus went above and beyond conventional means sometimes in order to garner results, but this… knowing what they did to Jack, seeing the repercussions of it first hand, began to sicken Miranda that she could have ever been a part of something that would do that to an innocent little girl.

Even if it was a rogue facility, they used the name ‘Cerberus’ with pride as they tortured her, and that wasn’t something Miranda was comfortable being associated with. And maybe, in the end, that was only because of how she felt for Jack; maybe she wasn’t a decent human being at all, and maybe if it was someone else who had no bearing on her life, she wouldn’t care. But it was Jack, and she _did_ care, and right then, that was the only thing that mattered to her.

“Look, Jack, you have to—you need to realize something,” Miranda began, pushing off the other woman so she could sit completely up. “If I do this, then that’s it for me. Cerberus doesn’t take lightly to people walking away, especially with the kind of intel I have; I’ll become a liability to them, which will make me a threat that needs to be eliminated. I’ll have to disappear… completely.”

“You say that like I have a better option than spending the rest of my short life dodging Cerberus assholes,” Jack responded, pushing herself to a seated position as well as she leaned back against the headboard. “You think that once I’m not Shepard’s pet anymore those dicks are just gonna let me walk? If they can’t control me, they’re gonna try to contain me; I’m not fucking stupid.”

“The Alliance could protect you,” Miranda told her, needing the woman to seriously think about her options. “I’m sure they would protect me if I decided to surrender, but like I said, I have to keep Oriana safe; if something happens to her and I’m detained, I’ll never forgive myself for choosing my own safety over my sister’s.”

“Fuck the Alliance,” Jack scoffed, like Miranda was stupid for even thinking that she’d contemplate that option. “Like I’m gonna trust my life to those douchebags when they’ve had their heads stuffed up their asses about the fucking Reaper invasion. I’m not looking for protection; not from them, not from anyone.”

“So… you’re planning to run?” Miranda asked tentatively, trying to suppress the mounting hope inside of her, as it was probably incredibly selfish of her to wish that Jack would. But whether whatever they had with each other was smart or not, there was a large part of her that knew she would be devastated if it had to come to an end. And she knew it was foolish, to have formed this kind of attachment to another person, especially at this point in her life, and on the brink of another galactic war, and yet… yet in all honesty, Miranda found that she really, _really_ wanted it. She really wanted _her._

Jack made her smile; and if anyone had told her that a month ago Miranda was certain she would have laughed in their face, but sometimes in life you can find happiness in the strangest of places. Surely this proved that theory better than anything.

Jack shrugged, like it was such an inconsequential decision in her life. “Don’t got anything better to do, so why the hell not?” Miranda shot her a disbelieving look at that answer, and Jack immediately defended with, “Hey, don’t look at me like that; it’s what you fucking wanted, right?”

Miranda, a little hesitant to admit that, glanced at Jack out of the corner of her eye before admitting in what was barely more than a mumble, “—Perhaps.”

“So then what’s the problem?” Jack asked, grabbing Miranda’s wrist and gently pulling her on top of her, encouraging the woman to straddle her waist before she slid her fingers over her palm and tangled their hands together. “We’ll fuck on every surface in every city on every _damn_ planet in the Traverse, dodging Cerberus cunts left and right and making a goddamn mess of things. It’ll be fucking killer.”

Miranda lightly rolled her eyes. “Romantic,” she deadpanned, and yet even still, in some messed up way, it kind of _was._

She knew going into this that Jack wasn’t the flower and candy type of girl, so it was the other things she did and said that made a fire ignite in the pit of Miranda’s chest and butterflies inhabit her stomach. Recently, it had been Jack’s inclination to always hold her hand, although she was certain that privilege wouldn’t extend to public outings. Still, the more they seemed to immerse themselves in this, whatever this was supposed to be, the more Jack seemed to initiate physical closeness.

Although of course, the one time Miranda mentioned it a few days ago, all she got as a reason was, “Fuck you, you’re the pussy girl who likes this sort of shit; I’m just trying to get in your pants.” Miranda just rolled her eyes and stayed quiet after that though, deciding to allow Jack her little ‘tough chick’ delusion if it made her feel better; in the end, she still reaped the benefits, and honestly she enjoyed that Jack liked to cuddle. It wasn’t something Miranda had ever thought she would like either, and yet with her… with her it was just _comfortable;_ like they were meant to be in each other’s arms.

Miranda mentally winced when she realized that though, hating how sappy and pathetic that sounded. This wasn’t supposed to be some great love affair, and she didn’t want to get the delusion that it was because in the end, were _either_ of them marriage material? Normalcy wasn’t exactly their thing. Still, Miranda wanted to enjoy this while it lasted, and she was glad that that wasn’t going to be sooner rather than later.

“You want romance, Cheerleader?” Jack countered, leaning forward until their lips were just a hair’s width apart, an unexpected declaration being breathed out against her skin. “I’ll cut out your father’s heart and serve it to you on a fucking _platter_ ; then you’ll never have to worry about your sister’s safety ever again. How’s that?”

Miranda took a sharp inhale of breath at that; not at the prospect of her father’s death, as she had wished that for quite a long time now, but the actual magnitude of that promise. “You’re serious?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

Jack’s gaze flickered from her mouth up to her eyes, holding eye contact for a moment as she breathed, “Just say the word.”

Miranda swallowed, finding that to be a little overwhelming as she broke eye contact and pulled away. “Why would you offer something like that?” she asked, worried that she might be reading too much into Jack’s offer. As sick as it may be though, to her, that actually did fall under the category of a ‘romantic gesture’; her father had always been a blight on not only her life, but on Oriana’s, and ridding them of that would have such a positive impact on their life that it was hard _not_ to see the romanticism in such an unselfish offer to provide them with that kind of freedom. 

“I dunno, maybe I just like killing things,” Jack answered, but her voice held a funny tone, like suddenly she was feeling self-conscious that she had even said something like that to her. Maybe she really did know what that meant to Miranda, and maybe she was now afraid that it wasn’t being received well. “Seems a good a target as any, and I get bored if I haven’t murdered someone in a while.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Miranda demanded, knowing everything that was coming out of Jack’s mouth was backtracking bullshit. Still, that didn’t stop Jack from trying to convince her of it.

“I said I just like killing shit, alright?” Jack answered, becoming defensive as she pushed Miranda’s shoulder, forcing her off her lap. “Just get off of me, if you’re gonna make some huge fucking thing about it—”

“Jack…” Miranda tried, but the woman wouldn’t listen. “Jack!” she repeated, this time grabbing onto the woman’s wrist so she couldn’t get away from her. “Jack, just—just stop for a second and listen to me.”

“Fuck you, Cheerleader, I’m not—”

“Will you shut up and just let me talk?!” Miranda exclaimed, frustrated with how the convict was acting. It at least made Jack stop though, but only to shoot her a furious glare. But Miranda let her hand slide down the woman’s wrist, tangling their fingers together as she told her, “I’m not saying I don’t appreciate the offer. I… I _do,_ more than you could ever possibly know, which was why I was asking. In some messed up way, that really is one of the most romantic things you could have possibly offered to do for me.”

“So then why the fuck are you acting like I said something wrong?” Jack demanded, untangling her hand from hers before crossing her arms over her chest.

“Because I didn’t…” Miranda started, trying to get her thoughts and feelings in order for a moment before she spoke. But then she realized why that overwhelmed her so much, and she looked up at Jack and finished softly, “Because I didn’t realize you cared so much.”

“Because it’s fucking news now that people do nice things for their chick?” Jack asked, looking at her like she was being in idiot for even questioning her motives. “What the fuck world do you come from; because I grew up in a goddamn _cell_ and I still know that shit.”

Miranda’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I’m your ‘chick’ now?”

“Well what the fuck else am I supposed to call you?” Jack shot back, and Miranda could see her become more and more self-conscious about how this entire conversation was playing out, and yet deciding to just be angry and defensive over it instead. “Because I’ll call you my bitch if you think that’s better.”

“No, I…” Miranda tried, still a little stuck on Jack staking her claim on her; clearly that was what this was, but they hadn’t actually put any kind of label on it before now. Miranda had just assumed that they never would, and that was fine with her, as they didn’t need to confirm their relationship out loud to actually be in one. “Calling me your ‘chick’ is fine, I guess, but I just… I suppose I just never expected you to actually say something like that.”

“Look, I’m not using the ‘r’ word ‘cause that’s some pussy ass bullshit that I’m not into, but I’m pretty sure I’d snap someone’s fucking neck if you started bouncing up and down on somebody else’s dick, so yeah, I’m staking my claim. Problem?”

Miranda bit her bottom lip as she grinned, finding something intensely flattering about Jack’s potential homicidal jealousy. Jack, however, just rolled her eyes at the look Miranda was giving her, and demanded, “Fuck you, stop smiling.” 

“Shut up, you’re glad I’m smiling,” Miranda countered, grabbing Jack’s hand once more and pulling her back down on the bed. As she let her back hit the duvet, Miranda’s grin only grew as Jack climbed over her body like a panther. “Because that means I _like_ that you’ve staked your claim on me…”

“Still, you don’t gotta act like you won some fucking prize or something.”

Miranda nipped gently at her bottom lip. “…Maybe I did.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re such a fucking girl sometimes,” Jack swore, sounding exasperated and annoyed by what was supposed to be a compliment; but then again, the other woman had never known how to take them, so Miranda wasn’t surprised by her reaction, nor the abrupt change of subject. “Now where the hell did we land on that murdering your dad thing?”

Miranda smirked, as she found it amusing that Jack could ask her that just as easily as she was inquiring about the weather, but she quickly got serious as she brushed her palm over the other woman’s cheek. “I appreciate the offer, more than you could ever think to imagine, but… I could never ask you to do that for me,” she told her softly. “If it was that easy to kill him, I would have done it myself a long time ago.”

“Don’t need you to ask me to do it,” Jack responded, hovering over her as she caught her gaze. “What I’m fucking asking you is, do you want him dead or not?”

“Of course I do, but—”

“Then I’ll kill him.”

“Jack,” Miranda tried, sighing softly. “You just… you just say these things, but I don’t think you really understand what they entail. You’re impulsive, and something like that would require a lot of forethought and planning; he’s well-guarded and very powerful. I don’t—I _can’t_ have you risk your life for me like that. No matter what you say, I’m not going to allow it.”

“Not risking my life for you, princess,” Jack countered. “I just like killing shit, and if the target happens to make my chick happy in the process, then I get hella laid and it’s a win for all involved.”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “I already fuck you like four times a day; if you’re going to downplay this and pretend it’s something it’s not, at least give me a believable reason.” 

“Uh, did you not catch the ‘hella’ in that sentence?” Jack responded, arching an eyebrow. “Basically means you’ll be cranking that four up to a respectable fifteen to twenty. Now tell me that ain’t worth killing over, because you’d be damn wrong.”

“You’re an idiot,” Miranda replied, but she sounded more amused than anything else. Pursing her lips, Miranda cocked her head to the side as she looked up at the woman on top of her before giving her a soft smile. “Thank you,” she breathed. “But no, it’s far too risky at this point. If you want to do something ‘romantic’ for me, then just help me keep Oriana safe the old fashioned way.”

Jack sighed heavily, moving off of her to lay next to the operative’s left side. “That’s fucking stupid,” she told her, propping her head up with her hand. “You really wanna spend the rest of your life trying to hide your sister from this bastard instead of just taking him out? If you don’t kill your demons, Miranda, eventually they’re gonna come back for you.”

“Is that why you blew up the facility on Pragia?” Miranda asked softly, turning her head to look at her.

“That’s why I’ve done a lot of shit, and why a lot of fucking people are dead.”

Miranda chewed on the inside of her cheek, turning her face away to look up at the ceiling as she thought. “Maybe,” she whispered finally. “Maybe, one day, it might come to that, but there needs to be an opportunity, and there needs to be a plan. It could be years from now, but… I would very much like him dead, yes. Oriana deserves to have that kind of freedom; I want to be able to give it to her one day.”

“Then wait it out; make your plans, draw up your fucking diagrams, whatever,” Jack responded. “Just point me in the direction when you need me to kill something, ‘cause forethought isn’t exactly my thing.”

Miranda rolled on her side to face her, a soft smile crossing her face as she looked at the woman across from her. “Thank you,” she whispered, allowing her fingers to trail gently over Jack’s arm. “You know, you can be very unexpectedly sweet sometimes; psychotically so, perhaps, but it’s rather endearing nonetheless.”

“Fuck you, I’m not ‘sweet’,” Jack scoffed, looking at her like she was moronic for even thinking so. “I just like killing shit, and like I said; I’m just in it for the bonus sex. So really, the only thing you’ve got right now is a horny, murderous bitch in your bed.”

“Uh huh,” Miranda responded disbelievingly, a small smirk of amusement crossing her face. In the end though, as funny as she found Jack trying to downplay her offer or her motives behind it, she was touched by the magnitude of the sentiment all the same. Never speaking about or defining their relationship had left Miranda wondering if this was something she even wanted, but now that they had at least established that they were ‘together’ in an actual, official sense, and that Jack really did care about her as much as she was starting to care for Jack, it made this thing that they had feel entirely less frightening; like maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the most foolish decision she had ever made after all.

“You know,” she continued, allowing her fingers to trace the lines of ink on Jack’s arm. “Usually when someone wants to do something nice for their ‘chick’, it involves cooking dinner or taking them to a movie, not offering to kill their abusive father.”

“Yeah well, if you actually expected some normal bullshit like that, then you’re probably fucking delusional.”

Miranda smiled, leaning in to brush her lips against Jack’s. “I like that you’re not normal,” she breathed before kissing her gently. Jack returned it in kind at first, but then it got a little more forceful, a little more needy as she cupped the back of her neck and slipped her tongue into her mouth. Miranda moaned softly, allowing her back to hit the mattress as Jack climbed on top of her, straddling her waist.

As her hands were pinned over her head, Miranda broke the kiss and shot her an amused look. “Is this your way of telling me you want me to finish what I started earlier…?”

“Yeah, because if this ‘talking’ bullshit starts to become the basis of our relationship, Cheerleader, I’ll probably fucking cry.”

Miranda smirked. “You just used the ‘r’ word.”

“Fuck you,” Jack shot back, although her upper lip then curled in what Miranda could only assume was self-disgust as she seemed to realize that she really had use that word. She shook her head though, brushing it off like it didn’t matter as she demanded, “Whatever; just give me a fucking orgasm, alright?”

“Ask nicely and I might give you two.”

“Ugh, _fine,_ ” Jack sighed, like it was the most difficult thing in the world to ask for as she slid her body down, pressing their breasts together and getting in her face as she continued, “Please, _Miranda,_ let me come all over your freaking face.” 

The tone was slightly mocking, but as Jack had actually used her real name and not ‘Cheerleader’ or ‘Princess,’ she let it slide; which, in the end, was probably why Jack did it. Like it or not, they were beginning to read each other fairly well.

“Good girl,” Miranda cooed, which just made Jack scoff and her chuckle in amusement, knowing it would irritate her. “Now sit on my face, and I promise to make you scream.”

**TBC…**


	9. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are gonna slow back down to once a week again (every Sunday) because _apparently_ my crush on Miranda has transferred to Yvonne Strahovski and I’ve been spending most of my free time as of late marathoning her show Chuck. Honestly I just need to learn better time management, lol. But yeah, this way I won’t fall too far behind with it and can still give you guys a steady update rate. Also I want to give a BIG thank you to everyone who’s been reviewing thus far; you guys are the best and I love every single one of you ^_^

**IX.**

Miranda’s legs were wrapped tightly around the convict’s hips, her back pressed firmly against the wall of her quarters as her nails scraped inconsistent patterns against painted skin, and she suddenly she was screaming, begging, cursing, _coming._ Jack grunted out her own release against her neck as she began to lose her grip, and Miranda felt herself sliding down the wall until her feet finally hit the floor, causing the dick to pull out of her at an awkward enough angle to make her hiss in discomfort.

“Shit, sorry,” Jack apologized, holding Miranda up with one arm in order to make sure the woman’s legs actually worked after not being used for the last fifteen or so minutes. But Miranda just slapped her hands off of her, causing Jack to let go of her as she immediately sunk to her knees and wrapped her mouth around the makeshift cock that was strapped to the other woman’s hips.

“Ugh— _fuck_ ,” Jack swore, her fingers curling in dark tresses so firmly that it almost bordered on painful for the woman beneath her. In the end though, that only spurred her on. “Miran—Jesus, we don’t have… we don’t fucking have time to—”

That was entirely true, but Miranda found she didn’t really care. In hindsight, she should have probably known better than to acquire this little toy when they didn’t have much time to use it, but after Jack’s offer a few days ago to do something _nice_ for her _chick_ (Miranda wished the woman would just called her her girlfriend, but she doubted that Jack would ever be that traditional about it), Miranda decided to go out of her way to do something nice for _her_ , and ended up purchasing a ridiculously expensive strap on that would allow the wearer to garner pleasure from it as though it were the real thing. 

Miranda found it was worth every credit however, her gaze taking in the abundance of arousal that dripped its way down colorful thighs as Jack panted and swore and encouraged the operative to take it deeper inside her mouth. Jack always had a bit of a dick complex, always tugging at the seam of her pants like she had something to adjust, and as much as Miranda enjoyed going down on the other woman with what was _really_ in between her thighs, she begun having fantasies of blowing that cock that Jack occasionally wished she had. With a regular strap on it would have still been fun, albeit fairly pointless unless she finger fucked her at the same time, but this, _this…_ oh, this she enjoyed.

This really wasn’t supposed to happen right now though, as they were supposed to meet the crew at Afterlife about a half hour ago for their last hurrah before they all went their separate ways, but after a request from Jack that she didn’t wear any panties under that tight, black dress she was wearing and _her_ request that Jack wear the dick under her clothes and well… she began caressing Jack over the seam of her pants, one thing led to another, and suddenly she was getting fucked up against the wall of her room and making both of them very, very late.

Honestly, the whole undergarments deal with them was only because Jack was disappointed that their next shore leave happened to consist of spending quite a lot of time with their crewmates, and thus had to put her little ‘slave’ fantasy with Miranda on hold as she, quote, “Didn’t want to waste valuable fucking time because of those assholes.” So a compromise was made instead and, well, perhaps they should have thought this through a little better, as clearly they didn’t know how to resist temptation very well.

Jack came for a second time, and Miranda found she couldn’t stop herself as she immediately unhooked the phallus from her, allowing it to drop to the floor with a hard thud before she pulled Jack’s hips to her face and began cleaning off every drop of her pleasure with her tongue. “Shit, _shit,_ ” Jack gasped, her legs hardly able to hold her upright after two consecutive orgasms. “I’m gonna fucking—fucking _fall!_ ”

Miranda’s mouth left the apex of the woman’s thighs with a loud popping sound of wetness against skin, and she used her hand to push Jack far enough back so that she basically fell unceremoniously against the surface of her desk. “Jesus fucking—” Jack tried to swear, sounding hazy and confused and so _damn_ turned on that it made Miranda’s clit ache with need as she pushed one of Jack’s legs up on the desk, her other hand finding its way between her own thighs, and she went back to sucking the other woman’s clitoris with renewed fervor until Jack bucked and swore and came all down her chin.

Miranda’s teeth found the inside of Jack’s thighs as her fingers worked tight circles against her own, and when she finally came Jack had shouted and called her a bitch for how hard she bit down, yet was still looking at her like she wanted to tear her apart and crawl inside her and fuck her until Miranda knew no other word but Jack’s own _name._

And so she did.

It took them another hour until they actually managed to clean themselves up, get redressed (with panties this time and _no_ cock because they had apparently already demonstrated how terrible they were when it came to temptation), and make their way through the streets of Omega to the club they were supposed to meet everyone at. But as they approached the building with its neon lights and pounding music filtering out through the doors, Miranda realized very suddenly that they had never done something like this before.

“Jack.” She came to a full stop just below the stairs leading up to the club, and the lack of movement from the woman who used to be next to her caused Jack to turn around with an inquisitive, if not a rather impatient look on her face. “I just… realized we haven’t exactly discussed something like this.”

“Discussed _what?_ ” Jack asked, already sounding exasperated because talking about anything was clearly not her forte; although to be honest, it wasn’t exactly Miranda’s either, but before they stepped in there and either pretended to be something they weren’t or decided to be exactly what they are, they should probably get on the same page about it. “Jesus, why the fuck do we always have to ‘discuss’ shit? It’s a fucking bar, Miranda; we drink, we dance, we shoot the shit, and then we end up fucking in the bathroom later. Alright? Discussion over.”

Now it was Miranda’s turn to look exasperated. “What I’m _asking_ is whether or not I’m your girlfriend when we walk through those doors, you impatient, irritating child.”

“Fuck you, I’m not a child.”

“Then stop acting like one and just take two seconds out of your day to tell me how you want us to play this, because I don’t want to fight about this later if one of us makes the other uncomfortable,” Miranda told her, quickly growing frustrated herself. They really were rather awful when it came to talking about this sort of stuff, but if they actually wanted this to work out between them, then they really needed to learn. “If it was just the two of us I wouldn’t be asking this – because I believe neither of us really care what a bunch of strangers think – but we haven’t exactly ‘come out’ to the rest of the crew yet, and that’s who we’re going to be spending the majority of our evening with.”

“So what, this just your way of telling me that you’re embarrassed you’re with me or something, so we should probably just shut the fuck up about it?” Jack shot back, apparently taking Miranda’s innocent concerns and deciding to blow them _way_ out of proportion. Suddenly Jack was angry; upset and offended, and all Miranda could do was stand there in shock and disbelief, because she didn’t understand why Jack would even assume something like that.

“Well I hate to fucking break it to you, princess, but I’m pretty sure everyone knows we fuck like twelve times a day, because I’ve barely left your room in like a solid week and a half,” Jack continued, pointing at her furiously. “So if you’re fucking _ashamed_ of me or something now, then you can just fuck right—”

“If I’m— _what?_ ” Miranda asked, suddenly finding her voice after just staring at Jack for a long moment, feeling completely perplexed and utterly lost. She hadn’t said any of those things! She hadn’t even _implied_ them; or so she thought, anyway. “Why would you think—where is this even _coming_ from?”

“Oh, screw you; like I don’t know what this ‘conversation’ is really about,” Jack exclaimed and, God, she was starting to garner _way_ too much attention right now by practically screaming at Miranda outside of a crowded club. “Little Miss Perfect can’t have some degenerate convict on her arm, well _fuck_ you—!”

“Jack!” Miranda exclaimed, not really knowing at all what to do with this situation, but knowing she didn’t want it happening in front of a crowd of strangers. “Please just— scream at me all you want in private, I really don’t care, but just _stop_ making a scene right now like some sort of—”

Jack’s tone was mocking and angry. “Why, it _embarrassing_ you, princess?”

“Yes!” Miranda exclaimed, frustrated about the way Jack was acting right now and feeling rather helpless to stop it, because the woman would barely even let her get a word out. “Yes, _this_ is embarrassing for me, Jack; if you want to scream at me over some made up issue to cover up your low self-esteem and insane paranoia then fine, be my guest, but at least have the decency to do so when we’re not in front of other people! This is _our_ business, our bloody problem, and I would appreciate it if you had enough common sense to keep it that way!”

“Fuck you; I don’t have low self-esteem—”

“Jack, you are _screaming_ at me right now over something I never said, nor even implied!” Miranda exclaimed, trying to ignore the stares of strangers because damnit, they really weren’t what was important right now, even though she still hated Jack for apparently feeling the need to do this _here._

“So yes, I think this is a self-esteem problem that you are taking out on me because you’re paranoid that I’m not okay about our relationship; which, let me remind you again, I’ve never implied. The only reason I even asked you what you wanted us to do was because _I_ didn’t want to make _you_ uncomfortable by shattering your ridiculous ‘bad girl’ image in front of everyone else by revealing the fact that Little Miss I-Don’t-A-Fuck,” Miranda mocked, throwing Jack’s ‘Little Miss Perfect’ comment back at her because God, that _irked_ her, “actually, legitimately, _gives_ a fuck about someone now.”

Jack was silent, her jaw clenched as she just stared at her, suddenly starting to look a little unsure of herself for spouting off on her like that. “…So you _don’t_ want me to be your dirty little secret; that what you’re saying?”

“No, I most certainly don’t, you delusional, paranoid _arsehole,_ ” Miranda seethed, still furious with her for doing this now, _here_ , of all places. “And quite honestly, I’d rather not be yours either, but the last thing I wanted was to make you uncomfortable if you weren’t okay with admitting that what we’re doing has surpassed casual sex. Which, _apparently_ , was such a moronic thing to do, because clearly I care about your comfort level far more than you care about mine; that childish tantrum you just pulled on me right now proves _that._ ”

And then Miranda was practically stomping away, just frustrated and upset about how this night was turning out. She didn’t get very far however, Jack cursing behind her and calling her name before she caught up with her, snatched her wrist in her hand, and pulled her around the side of the building.

“What the hell are you—?”

“ _There_ , okay? Privacy,” Jack tried, although right after she said that there was the distinct sound of someone throwing up a little ways down the alleyway, and Jack amended with a half shrug, “…Well, sorta.”

“Jack, we don’t…” Miranda tried, sighing heavily as she shook her head. Already she was exhausted by what was supposed to be a fun time, and she really didn’t want to get into it. If anything, she just wanted to get this night over with. “We don’t have time for this. We’re already _very_ late, and—”

“Well I don’t want you pissed at me all night so just give me two fucking seconds here, alright?” Jack pleaded, and damnit, Miranda really wished that Jack didn’t look like she actually cared, and instead was just trying to placate her, because it would have been so much easier to just walk away. “I fucked up, okay? And I really hate admitting that so don’t make a huge thing out of it right now. Just… just take it as what it is and let’s just fucking leave it, alright?”

Miranda just looked at her in disbelief. Was that supposed to constitute as an apology? Because that was a sad attempt. “You are absolutely intolerable sometimes, do you know that?”

“Look, I’m not fucking good at this, okay?!” Jack exclaimed, completely frustrated as she took a step back and ran her nails over her scalp. “What do you want me to say?”

“Well, first let’s try, ‘I’m sorry, Miranda,’ and then we can go from there,” Miranda deadpanned, irritated that she literally had to hold Jack’s hand and walk her through this like an infant. But in all honesty, would she ever have expected anything different?

“Fine, I’m fucking _sorry,_ okay?” Jack responded, her tone impatient as this clearly made her uncomfortable, and yet the fact that she was even standing there doing it, actually _trying_ it, still meant something. “Now will you stop being pissed at me?”

Miranda sighed heavily, but the truth was, she really didn’t want to fight with her; and quite honestly, it probably was going to take them a very long time to interact even slightly like a normal, emotionally-stable couple. “Fine,” she relented. “But for future reference, our fights are happening behind closed doors; they’re nobody else’s business but our own, and I’d rather it be kept that way.”

“Fine,” Jack agreed, leaning against the wall next to her before pausing a moment and allowing her eyes to trail down Miranda’s form, then back up to catch her gaze. “Sooo... do we just… fuck it out or something now? I don’t know how this shit usually works.”

Miranda gave her an exasperated look, but then she paused for a moment, thought about that, and then glanced at the man who was previously throwing up in the other side of the alleyway. He seemed to be passed out now. “Fine— but do it quickly; we’re already late enough as it is.”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up, apparently not expecting that. “Seriously?”

“Well I’m still fairly annoyed with you and I think an orgasm could rectify that so, yes, Jack, I would appreciate it if you fucked me up against this wall so I could possibly enjoy the rest of my night,” Miranda told her impatiently, pulling Jack over to her and using her body to shield the view from anyone who could be watching them. She then pulled her underwear down to about mid-thigh, grabbed Jack’s hand, and placed it underneath her dress; the convict smirked.

“You’re a bit of an exhibitionist, aren’t you?” Jack growled, clearly approving as her mouth found Miranda’s shoulder, her neck, the base of her ear. “Dirty freak.” Miranda exhaled a shuddered breath as Jack slid her fingers over her clit, her nails beginning to scrape patterns against the back of the convict’s neck.

“I’m a bit of a lot of things, Jack,” Miranda admitted, dragging her lips over the woman’s skin as she pleasured her, half-hoping that they caught someone’s wandering eye, and yet at the same time, half-not. But in a strange way, that’s why she enjoyed something like this; not knowing if she even wanted it, and just having it happen. “…And maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll let you know all of them one day.”

[x]

Eventually, they did make it into the club, although not without another frustrating debate about where to keep their _hands,_ of all things. “I’m not holding your hand like some pansy ass girl,” Jack had told her. “If we’re doing this bullshit then I’m just putting my arm around your waist.”

“That makes me seem more like your _property_ than your girlfriend, Jack,” Miranda had responded, exasperated with how difficult this was for them sometimes. She had shaken her head though, deciding in the end to go a different route with it. “Honestly, I don’t think it even matters; we’re probably just overthinking all of this anyhow. Let’s just walk in there normally, and if anyone asks then we tell them, but if they don’t then we don’t. I think it might be better for both of us if we just kept things simple.”

Which Jack had agreed with, and _was_ the plan, until someone drunk human male approached them right when they entered, hit on Miranda with some ridiculous line, and caused Jack to immediately pull the operative to her as she bluntly told him to ‘fuck off outta her chick’s face.’ _So._ Apparently that was that; pretending they were anything but what they were really wasn’t going to work.

In the end, how they approached the table filled with a few of their crewmates was with loosely entangled arms, apparently wanting to be touching but not overly so; which was fine, as it made enough of a statement without being obnoxious about it. Shepard raised her eyebrows at their body language though, of course being the first to notice, and noted, “…Well this is new.”

“Not really,” Jack told her shortly, sounding a little defensive and awkward about that, but letting it happen all the same. “So just do us all a favor and don’t make a fucking thing out of it right now.”

Which, thankfully, Shepard seemed to oblige; unfortunately however, others did not.

“Jeez, Jack, if you were using this to take Miranda out on a date you could have at least dressed a little better,” Kasumi interjected with a smirk, noting how the woman was wearing her same old attire of cargo pants and that damned harness strapped across her breasts, while the woman on her arm was standing there in a tight, knee-length dress. To be quite honest though, Miranda didn’t mind; Jack didn’t exactly seem the type to dress for anyone other than herself, and they had never approached this outing like it was any kind of official ‘date’, which Jack apparently felt the need to explain.

“Screw you, this isn’t a date,” Jack snapped, letting go of Miranda and flopping rather unceremoniously into a chair. “If it was, I wouldn’t be wasting my time with you assholes. We just… came here. Together. So fuck you.”

“Well I was the one who had two hours,” Garrus mentioned to the rest of the table, opening his omni-tool to check the time. “So everyone; time to pay the piper.” 

“Damnit, you guys couldn’t have waited another half hour?” Joker responded with a groan, sliding over his credit chit to Garrus, who was smirking. Miranda’s jaw dropped.

“I’m sorry, were you all _betting_ on how late we’d be?” 

God, she hated all of them. Even _Shepard_ was sliding her credit chit to Garrus, allowing him to transfer her funds. What were they, a gambling ship now? The suicide mission was one thing – which Shepard had won, in the end, as she had bet that they would all survive, much to everyone’s amused disbelief until it had actually happened – but now they were betting on her _personal_ life? Did they really have nothing better to do?

“Yeah, and I have a shot at my fifty credits back if it was because you two were too busy screwing, so do you mind telling us what took you?” Kasumi asked casually, like that wasn’t an invasive, personal question at _all._

“No one’s giving you masturbation material, Goto; so go fuck yourself to something else,” Jack snapped, apparently irritated by this just as much as Miranda was; which was nice, because it made her feel like at least _someone_ was on her side.

But apparently that was exactly what Kasumi wanted to hear, because she slapped her hand on the table in victory and announced, “Ha! That was a yes; pay up Joker.”

“What, no!” Joker protested. “I didn’t hear a ‘yes’ in there and besides, if they were arguing too then _I_ won; so sorry, but I think you’re celebrating a little early over there.”

“You never said anything about sex; you just bet that they were arguing, so—”

“No, I’m pretty sure I said both.”

“Oh my god,” Miranda breathed in exasperation, immediately standing from her seat as she tried to fight off a fresh wave of embarrassment. She couldn’t believe this had actually become a topic of conversation; although more than that, she couldn’t believe that they were that transparent. Between screwing and arguing, they really didn’t do much else; except maybe attempt to have something resembling a serious conversation about their relationship and failing miserably at it. “I’m going to go get a drink, and the rest of you? _Desperately_ need lives.” Turning towards her girlfriend, her brow rose and she invited, “Jack?”

“You all can suck my dick, I’m gonna go get hammered,” Jack told them in her little way of parting as she rose, taking Miranda’s offer to join her. Clearly if they wanted to make it through this night, alcohol needed to be a big part of it, because Miranda doubted the little jibes about their relationship was going to end there; apparently, poking fun at them was the crew’s new source of entertainment. 

Jack flipped them all off for good measure before she wrapped her arm around Miranda’s waist and led her away from the table, which caused Tali to mention, sounding a lot more intoxicated than everyone else, “Aww… they’re kind of - _hic_ \- kind of cute, actually; in that—that blurry sort of way…”

Thankfully, Jack didn’t seem to hear that though, as Miranda was sure she’d have something to say about being referred to as ‘cute.’

“Are you okay with this?” Miranda asked tentatively as they approached the bar, wrapping her hand around Jack’s bicep and pulling her a little closer. Now that there was an abundance of people between them and the table of people who apparently were far too interested in their lives, Miranda felt a little more comfortable being on Jack’s arm.

“Fuck ‘em, they’re all assholes anyway,” Jack responded uncaringly as she leaned against the bar, allowing her hands to rest on Miranda’s hips as the operative faced her. “Besides, they’re probably just jealous that I’m the one banging you. I mean, you’re pretty damn fuckable, Cheerleader.”

Miranda lightly rolled her eyes, a small smirk tugging at the edges of her lips. “Thank you? I suppose. Although I very much doubt that anyone’s jealous.”

“Whatever, don’t fucking pretend like you don’t know you’re the hottest bitch in here.”

Hooking her finger in one of Jack’s belt loops, Miranda fought the urge to smile at the compliment and countered, “To _you,_ perhaps…” Pressing her body against hers, Miranda leaned in and placed her lips against the base of Jack’s ear as she finished, “And to be perfectly honest with you, that’s really the only thing that matters to me right now, so you’re right; _fuck them._ ”

Jack grinned; but then again, she did always seem to like it whenever Miranda swore. It wasn’t a rarity by any means, but it was certainly less than her lover, who seemed to have a quota to meet every day. “And fuck me later?” she added hopefully. Miranda chuckled.

“That’s usually how things go for us, so I would assume so,” she answered before stepping away from the other woman, yet still keeping her finger hooked in her belt loop to tug her over to face the bar. “Now come on, I’m not generally a shot type of a girl but there is no chance of me going back over to that table without being at least a little bit cocked.”

“Tequila?”

“Only if it’s top shelf.”

“Jesus, you’re so fucking high maintenance,” Jack scoffed, rolling her eyes at the request and yet even still, did not hesitate to order a couple shots of the bar’s finest tequila. 

After they had had a few drinks, danced, and got mercilessly teased by their crewmembers about their budding romance – which, thankfully, seemed to bother them both less and less the more alcohol was in their systems – Jack had unceremoniously pulled Miranda into the seemingly unoccupied women’s room, her lips attacking the operative’s neck as she began to run her hands up her body, gripping her hips and squeezing her breasts as she pushed her against the counter of sinks.

“Jack, we shouldn’t— _oh,_ we… we’re supposed to be—” Miranda tried, but admittedly not very hard as she ran her nails down tattooed skin to rest at the hem of her clothes as she tugged roughly at the ties that bound the woman’s cargo pants together. 

“Fuck Shepard’s little bonding exercise; I wanna bond with your cunt right now,” Jack breathed before she attacked Miranda’s lips, plunging her tongue deep into her mouth as her hand found its way up Miranda’s dress.

“And here I thought romance was dead,” came the flat voice of Shepard, who had stepped out of the stall on the far side of the bathroom, causing the two women to practically spring apart. Miranda’s cheeks flushed a deep red, a reaction that she really wished was just attributed to the amount of drinks she had, and not the position they were just caught in, as she hurriedly pulled down her dress so as to not flash her commanding officer.

“Shepard! I… I apologize, we didn’t think anyone was in here,” Miranda stumbled, feeling incredibly foolish for not checking for feet underneath the stalls before she let Jack practically violate her on top of the sinks.

“Clearly,” Shepard responded, although she sounded a little amused by it as she crossed the bathroom to wash her hands. “Out of curiosity, do you guys do anything else _other_ than laugh in the face of what’s considered to be a normal sex drive?”

“Hey, fuck you; pretty sure banging your chick like five plus times a day is perfectly fucking normal, actually.”

“Well enjoy it while it lasts,” Shepard told them as she ran her hands under the water. “Because before you know it, you’re in a lasting, committed relationship and suddenly your sex life is declining rapidly.”

Jack immediately looked horrified.

“Don’t _tell_ her that, Shepard; my God, what the hell are you trying to do?” Miranda snapped, the alcohol in her system causing her to talk to her superior with less respect than she probably should, but Shepard was clearly a little drunk as well if she was actually talking about sex _casually_ with them. Still, Miranda immediately sought to do damage control as she grabbed hold of Jack’s arm, pulled her to her, and whispered in her ear, “Ignore her. Three times a day at the very least, I promise.”

Jack looked a little less worried after that, and Shepard chuckled.

“Relax, I never said it was a bad thing,” she told them, turning off the water before placing her hands under the air dryer. “The sex may decline, but believe me, that’s only to leave room for something far better.”

Jack’s lip upturned. “I swear to God, if you say ‘love’ I’m gonna turn around and hurl right in this fucking sink.”

“I, also, beg of you not to use that word,” Miranda chimed in dryly, not particularly fond of thinking that far ahead or getting her hopes up when, realistically, this was probably meant to be nothing more than some kind of extended fling. Miranda had found a long time ago that if you set the bar fairly low, you’ll almost never turn out to be disappointed.

She just wished her father had had the same sense to do that as well; perhaps maybe then Miranda wouldn’t constantly struggle with feeling like a failure at everything she wasn’t absolutely perfect at. 

Like relationships.

Shepard smirked at the two women’s apparent allergy of the word. “Alright, subject dropped.” After she had finished drying her hands, Shepard crossed the space between them and mentioned, “Oh, Jack; I’ve actually been meaning to ask if you’ve given any thought to the Alliance’s offer. I think it would be a good opportunity for you; might even teach you a little discipline, if you’re lucky.”

Miranda’s brow creased. “What offer?” She looked at Jack, who suddenly looked a little uncomfortable and refused to meet her gaze as she shoved her hands in the pockets of her pants and leaned against the wall.

“Not doing it,” she mumbled. “Fucking pointless bullshit, so just drop it; doesn’t even matter.”

“I really don’t think you should be so quick to dismiss it,” Shepard told her, trying to catch Jack’s gaze that she wasn’t allowing anyone to have at the moment. “Some of them are just like how you were once; angry, confused, scared, not understanding or not having any control over their biotics. These kids need a role model, Jack, and I think you could make a real difference there.”

“Yeah, because I’m such a fucking _role model,_ right?” Jack snapped, on full defensive because of how uncomfortable this conversation seemed to make her. She pointed to herself angrily, getting in the Commander’s face. “Take a good, hard look at me, Shepard; I’m a killer, not a fucking teacher. Those kids are better off without someone like me around, so just _drop it._ ”

Miranda pursed her lips as her brow creased in distress, her heart starting to pang in her chest by how low Jack seemed to think of herself. Was that why she never told her; because she didn’t think she would be any good at it, or because she felt like she had nothing to offer? 

“All I’m saying is think about it,” Shepard responded, unwaveringly patient with the angry woman in front of her. “Maybe even talk to Miranda about it,” she suggested, nodding towards the operative who was still standing there silently, watching her girlfriend pace in frustration. “She might be able to provide you with a different perspective.”

While Jack just mumbled an irritated, “Whatever,” Shepard shot Miranda a look that clearly stated _talk to her;_ which, of course she was going to, because she knew Jack well enough to know that if this didn’t actually mean anything to her, then she wouldn’t be getting this aggravated over it.

After Shepard exited the bathroom, Miranda tried to implore with, “Jack…” but the convict was having none of it.

“No, I already said I’m not fucking doing it, Miranda, so just _leave it._ ”

“Hey, _hey,_ ” Miranda encouraged, gently taking Jack’s hand in hers before pulling the woman over to her. “Look at me,” she requested softly, keeping her voice level in order to calm her and Jack eventually obliged; albeit with a glare painted across her face. “I’m not going to tell you to do it, but will you just… _tell_ me more about it? I’m just curious; that’s all.”

Jack was still glaring at her, but then she rolled her eyes and relented to the inquiry. “It’s that fucking… Grissom Academy school, okay? They got some secret biotic program for kids and Shepard and her meddling ass _apparently_ had a few screws loose and recommended me to the Alliance for a teaching position or something; like I’m some kind of normal person who can just _do_ that… help kids and be functional fucking person in society or some crap. It’s all bullshit.”

“It doesn’t sound like bullshit, Jack; that sounds like… like a _great_ opportunity for you; why don’t you want to do it?”

“Because I _can’t_ do something like that, Cheeleader; just fucking look at me,” Jack snapped, irritated that Miranda apparently didn’t see her how she saw herself. “Who in their right mind would hire someone like me? They’ve all gotta be fucked in the head for even considering it.”

Jack shook her head, this little snarl still on her lips as she continued, “Besides, I already said that I’m leaving with you; so what’s the fucking point of even thinking about it?”

Miranda’s stomach sunk in her gut; maybe it was the alcohol, but she hadn’t even considered that. If Jack took the job, then they would… they would most likely never see one another again. Miranda had to go into hiding, had to disappear completely, and that didn’t leave an option for some kind of long distance relationship, because it would put Jack, those kids, that entire _school_ at risk if she ended up leading Cerberus straight to them. A school full of biotic kids would be a goldmine for them. 

But at the same time, Miranda couldn’t allow Jack to just walk away from a chance to actually better her life, to not be on the run for once and to actually do something meaningful, just because of _her._ That would be… that would be absolutely awful, and insanely selfish, and Miranda just couldn’t—she’d never be able to stomach that.

“Jack,” Miranda said softly, trying to meet her gaze. “Please don’t tell me the only reason you’re not taking this job is because of me.”

“Yeah, cause you’re the center of the fucking galaxy,” Jack scoffed, but she wouldn’t look her in the eyes. “Look, I’m just not teacher material, alright? And even if I was, maybe I don’t…” She trailed off, biting the inside of her cheek as she finally met Miranda’s gaze. “You know. Whatever.”

Yeah, Miranda did know, and that was what made her heart clench in her chest. She was touched of course, that Jack didn’t want to leave her, but at the same time, how could she ever justify keeping Jack a fugitive, on the run, when the woman had a chance to be so much more than that? Their relationship was new, barely past its infancy, and despite what they may feel for one another, it really couldn’t weigh up against such a life altering opportunity.

And God, Miranda _hated_ that; it made her want to cry in frustration just thinking about it, because it wasn’t often that she felt more for someone than just frivolous sexual attraction. But the fact of the matter was that she honestly cared about Jack, and that was why she knew that despite how she may feel, despite how much she may hate it and how much it may devastate her, Miranda couldn’t just… she couldn’t let herself be the reason that Jack passed by an opportunity to make something better of her life.

“Jack, if it… if it wasn’t for us, or the fact that you don’t think you’re ‘teacher material’, would you… would this be something you were interested in?” Miranda asked tentatively as she loosely laced their fingers together, looking up at her.

Jack was silent for a long moment, shifting her weight uncomfortably between her feet as she shrugged. “I dunno. I mean, I guess… biotic shit, I’m good at that; fucking only thing I’m good at, really – only thing I’m even built for,” she began, looking more at the ground than at Miranda when she spoke. “And I don’t know shit about kids – other than the fact I used to be one – but maybe I could relate to them; I mean, fuck, I’m not exactly the most mature bitch around anyway, and I know a thing or two about anger, and not having any control over all this power inside of you.”

Sighing heavily, Jack turned away from her then and began pacing as she ranted. “But what the fuck’s the point? I’m not some kind of goddamn professional; don’t look, or dress, or even act like one,” she told her, wildly gesturing at herself to make her point. “And I’m not stupid; I know the only reason I even fucking exist is to kill people, so what the hell’s the point of trying to be something I’m not?”

Miranda bit the inside of her cheek, all of her insides tightening to the point of physical pain as she realized this was something Jack actually wanted to do; and the only things standing in the way of that were her own self esteem… and Miranda.

“Jack,” she breathed, hating the words that were coming out of her mouth, but knowing she had to say them all the same. “I think you should take the job.”

“Did you not just fucking hear me—”

“Yes, I heard you,” Miranda responded, her voice beginning to tighten with emotion. “But I think you underestimate yourself, and what you’re capable of. Jack, you have a chance here to make something of yourself; to take everything horrible that happened in your life because you were a biotic, and turn it into something _good,_ something worthwhile. You could better your own life, better those _kids’_ lives; don’t you want that?”

“Are you just trying to get rid of me or something?” Jack fiercely accused, stepping away from her. “Is that what this is about?”

“No!” Miranda exclaimed, hating that she would even think that. “Believe me, the _last—_ ” But her voice choked with emotion and she had to look away for a moment to collect herself; alcohol really did not do pleasant things to the wall she usually kept firmly in place around her heart. “The last thing I would want,” Miranda started again, her voice growing soft, “is to… is to lose you, alright? Whatever this is between us, it doesn’t happen to me very often. But I _can’t_ let you pass this by because of that, because of _me._ I’m really not worth it, Jack; I’m just… I’m just not.”

“Fuck you, don’t fucking stand there and tell me what’s worth shit in my life; that’s not for you to decide.”

Miranda just looked at her helplessly, needing her to understand but at the same time, wishing she herself didn’t, so they could just run away together and have some ridiculous, ill-advised love affair just to satisfy her own needs. But she couldn’t ignore it; she couldn’t just— “Jack, please…”

“No, screw you!” Jack exclaimed, pointing at her furiously. “Just ‘cause you’re my chick now, doesn’t fucking mean you can dictate how my goddamn life goes! I already made my decision, so fuck you and just _accept_ it; we’re done talking about this.”

And then she was storming out of the bathroom, leaving Miranda there to just cover her face and beg the alcohol in her system not to make her cry over this, despite knowing that she was fighting a losing battle. This was the last thing she wanted; the last thing she even thought would happen. Despite the hardships being on the run might provide them – especially for Miranda, who was used to living fairly well off – she had almost been looking forward to it; it just being the two of them. She seemed to be falling for Jack much quicker than she ever anticipated, and in the end that was the problem, because she apparently cared more for the other woman’s wellbeing than she did her own selfish needs.

Miranda drank a lot after that, and made a point to stay away from the group, and especially away from Jack. The woman was already angry with her anyhow, and Miranda was afraid that if she approached her again, the solution that was formulating in her head would be rendered completely useless in the wake of her own feelings. She didn’t trust herself to do the right thing when in her presence, but the more Miranda thought about it, the more she realized what she had to do, and it just… it _sickened_ her, it made her nauseous and upset and it was all she could do to fight tears as she came to the conclusion that doing the right thing in this situation, doing the right thing for _Jack_ , would be to take herself completely out of the equation.

And it devastated her, so much more than she thought it would when she first began this little thing with Jack; it made her physically ill and it made her want to scream but she couldn’t—she couldn’t _do_ that to her; she couldn’t let Jack just walk away from something that could potentially be the best thing that ever happened to her, for a relationship that in the end, didn’t have any guarantee of a forever. 

_This way was better,_ Miranda told herself as more than just the alcohol blurred her vision. _This way was better, it had to be._ Jack deserved a real, solid chance at something more, something worthwhile, and something that meant something to not just her, but to those kids that Miranda was certain would benefit from Jack’s teachings.

So eventually, after far too many drinks and yet not enough at the same time, Miranda swallowed her feelings, her own needs, her own selfish desires, and turned and walked away from it all; away from _her,_ without a word of goodbye or leave, hoping that this way, it would be easier on both of them.

And she didn’t trust herself to look back, not even once.

**TBC…**


	10. X

**X.**

Eight months.

That was how much time had passed before Miranda saw a familiar face. She had once believed that she never would again; that when she walked out of the club that night, she would never again be faced with anyone from her old life, and thus never made to face the consequences of her decision to leave. It had been such a foolish thought. Miranda had known better than most that the Reaper invasion was drawing nearer, and with it, a coming war that would no doubt last for decades. Shepard would be released and she would need allies; assets, to help her and the Alliance in the coming war, and Miranda knew that, eventually, she would become one of them.

But she didn’t expect it to happen so soon.

Earth had been invaded two months prior, and with it came Shepard’s inevitable release. Miranda had been on Illium when she heard the news, putting in place extra protection for Oriana, as she had heard her father had picked up a lead on her sister’s whereabouts. It wasn’t the first time that had happened, and Miranda hadn’t been too concerned because all of his other leads, thanks to her, had resulted in a dead end. Still, she remembered seeing the news report as though it had happened yesterday, and Miranda’s heart ached for her former Commander, as Earth had been her home once.

And then, no more than a week ago, all of her contacts on Oriana went dark. She knew it was her father’s doing, that he had finally caught up to her, but she refused to panic because if nothing else, Henry Lawson wanted Oriana alive; she was his last living legacy, and the heir to his dynasty. Miranda had resolved to not involve anyone else until she could gather more intel on the situation, but then the reports started filtering in about the Cerberus attack on Grissom Academy.

And suddenly, Miranda couldn’t breathe.

Miranda would be lying if she said she hadn’t been checking up on Jack; after keeping Oriana safe, knowing that the former convict was safe as well was her top priority. She had briefly feared after leaving that Jack wouldn’t take that job at the Academy just to spite her, as certainly she must have known that was why Miranda had left, but in the end, one of her contacts that had an in with the director of the school informed her that Jack had, eventually, accepted their offer. Miranda had cried herself to sleep that night; all of the emotions, all of the fear, regret, and guilt she had felt for leaving finally being overridden by the comfort and validation that it had all been worth it. Miranda was devastated for herself, and probably would be for a good long while, but for Jack… for Jack she was happy, and she was so proud that the woman had chosen to go there.

As hard as it may have been, in the end, Miranda had known that she had made the right choice.

It still hurt though, even eight months later, having to walk away from her. Miranda had thought it would fade; that what she had with Jack really was just some kind of desperation for closeness left over from the prospect of dying, and then surviving the impossible, but what she felt never lessened, it never dimmed. Miranda wasn’t good at attachments, and even less with trying to learn to live without them, but at the same time, she knew she had to learn, because there really was no going back. Not only was she certain that Jack would punch her in the face the next time she saw her, if not try to kill her outright for what she no doubt saw as a betrayal, but the Illusive Man was still trying to track Miranda down, and bringing Cerberus to the Academy’s doors would have had devastating consequences.

Although in the end, it seemed Cerberus had found them anyway.

After the attack on the school, Miranda had lost all contact with her source that provided her with intel on Jack, and Miranda found herself fearing the worst as she finally contacted Shepard. She had heard a rumor that the Commander had been there when it happened, and as that was her only lead, she was desperate to track it down. She needed to know if Jack was okay.

At the first sight of Shepard stepping through the airlock on the Citadel, Miranda felt something inside of her break. “Shepard!” she called, the name breaking in her throat as anxiety and fear inhabited the pit of her stomach, threatening to make her nauseous. 

She met the Commander halfway, and everything she was feeling must have shown on her face, because the first thing the woman said to her was, “She’s okay, Miranda.”

Miranda felt such an intense wave of relief wash over her that she had to lean against the wall, or else she was certain she would fall over. “Oh, thank god,” she exhaled, her hand clutching the fabric that covered her abdomen as she forced herself to breathe. Miranda was aware just how hard it was to kill Jack, and yet even still, the moment she had heard about the attack, she was terrified that the woman hadn’t made it out of there alive.

Shepard had her arms crossed over her chest as she looked at her, her expression unreadable. “I assumed that was why you were contacting me; I would have been surprised if you hadn’t been keeping tabs on her.” A beat, and then, “I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”

“I’m sorry,” Miranda apologized after she had finally felt herself begin to calm. “I shouldn’t have—I know I shouldn’t have left in the way that I did, but at the time, it seemed like the best thing to do.”

“I understand why you did it,” Shepard responded, this edge to her tone that couldn’t be ignored. “It took me awhile to piece it together, but when I finally did, I understood why you walked away. And I’m not denying that, in the long run, it was the best thing for Jack at the time; but that being said, you could have handled it a _lot_ better.” 

Miranda went to open her mouth, to try to explain herself, to try to make the guilt she suddenly felt in the pit of her stomach disappear, but Shepard wouldn’t let her get a word out. “We searched for you for over a week, Miranda. _Over a week,_ and you _know_ that everyone had put their own plans in motion after our night on Omega; but we all held them off for just a little bit longer, because Jack was adamant that you wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye. She thought something horrible had happened to you.”

The guilt was growing, beginning to gnaw away at her insides, and Miranda tried to make her stop by pleading, “Shepard…” but the woman was having none of it.

“I’m not finished,” Shepard responded sharply, and all of Miranda’s words died in her throat. “Eventually, we heard from one of Kasumi’s contacts that you had been spotted on Nos Astra, boarding a shuttle to an unknown location. We were further informed that you were completely unharmed, and seemed to be doing so at your own volition which, as you can imagine, finally forced Jack to face the truth.”

Miranda felt sick.

“Let me ask you something, Miranda; have you ever seen her cry?”

Miranda felt the hot sting of tears begin to well up in her own eyes at that question, knowing exactly where this was going. She couldn’t meet Shepard’s gaze when she answered, “No, Commander,” her voice strained from the tightness that inhabited her throat. 

“Well I hope you never do,” Shepard told her, voice hardened and gaze unforgiving as she stared down her former subordinate. “Because I have seen a lot, have been hardened to a lot, but that? That was heartbreaking. You _devastated_ her, Miranda; and she tore my ship apart in a blind rage as she cried and cursed and swore to every God imaginable that the next time she saw you, she would kill you for what you did to her.”

A hot tear scorched its way down Miranda’s cheek then and she had to turn away from her, violently wiping it away as she tried to get herself under control; she couldn’t break down right now, not here, in the middle of the Citadel. It would garner far too much attention, and that was the last thing she needed right now. 

“I’ll pay for the damage,” Miranda tried meekly, just trying to somehow make this situation _better_ , even though she knew the destruction she had caused Jack was far more than what the Normandy bore. Jack had trusted her, had let her in, and Miranda had just… she had just _left._ It was for the right reasons, yes, but that didn’t make it any less painful.

“I don’t care about the damage to my ship, Miranda,” Shepard told her, brushing that off as though it was completely inconsequential and maybe, under the circumstances, it really was. “I just wanted you to know _exactly_ what the repercussions of your actions were, because what you did to her was terrible.”

“Do you think I don’t _know_ that?!” Miranda exclaimed, whipping around to face her. She knew she must have tear tracks running down her cheeks, but in that moment, she really couldn’t care less about her appearance. “Do you think even a day goes by where I don’t regret walking out on her? But I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t just let her come with me and be on the run for yet _another_ time in her life, when she had something better waiting for her; when she finally had the chance to be more than just another fugitive, more than what everyone else, and what even _she_ believed she amounted to. Keeping her with me, Shepard… _keeping_ her with me would have been selfish, and I cared far too much to do that to her.”

“Like I said, I understand why you did it,” Shepard told her, not at all phased by the tears that made their way down Miranda’s cheeks; but maybe in the end, that was her goal in telling her all this. Shepard wanted her to feel guilty, but the thing of it was, Miranda always felt guilty; and she always hated herself for making what was supposed to be the right decision. “But that didn’t mean you had to leave without saying goodbye, and without a word of explanation. If you felt you needed to leave her so that Jack could do something better with her life, you should have told her that.”

Miranda pursed her lips, willing herself to stop crying; it was achieving nothing, and Miranda hated waste. “I thought… I had thought it would be easier—”

“On who?” Shepard countered. “Her… or you?”

“Please just—please _stop,_ ” Miranda begged, unable to deal with this any longer. “I got your point, Shepard; I know I should have handled it better, I _know_ I hurt her, and if I could take it back and do it the right way then I would, but I _can’t._ This is what’s happened, and I can’t change that, no matter how much I may wish to.”

Shepard looked at her for a long time before she finally moved, wrapping an arm around Miranda’s shoulders in a friendly, comforting gesture. “Alright, I guess I’ve tortured you enough,” she relented with a small sigh, guiding Miranda towards the docking bay elevator. 

Her tone was instantly lighter though, and it coaxed Miranda off of the emotional cliff face she was previously teetering on. She had assumed Shepard would be upset with her, but she hadn’t fathomed it would be that much. In the end though, the Commander did seem to have a bit of a mother hen complex, and wasn’t exactly shy in expressing her disappointment in her charges; current or previous. Miranda should have known that she wouldn’t get off easy, and in all honesty, she also knew that she deserved what she got; what she had done to Jack truly was awful – emotionally speaking, anyhow – and really rather selfish, despite her attempt at doing the exact opposite.

She had never been very good at relationships though.

“So how about we go grab a drink, and spend an hour or two swapping stories about the last couple months,” Shepard suggested as they walked side by side, their steps falling into sync with one another. “Because as much as it pains me to admit it, a part of me actually misses hearing you pass judgment on my work ethic in that condescending little tone of yours.”

As Miranda was still feeling rather emotional, her snort of amusement almost came out more like a choked wheeze as she placed her hand over her mouth and tried to will herself to calm down. Shepard sighed, squeezing Miranda’s shoulder reassuringly. “It will hurt less,” she told her softly as they entered the elevator. “In time, it’ll hurt less.”

All Miranda could do was nod in acknowledgement, and hope that she was right.

[x]

The next time Miranda spoke to Shepard, it was via holoterminal. The Citadel had just been attacked by Cerberus, so meeting there in person was out of the question; as it was already, she had a plethora of Cerberus assassins hunting her, and so staying out of sight was a necessity. Shepard informed her that Kai Leng had been involved on the assassination attempt of the Salarian councilor, and outside of being surprised that the bastard was still alive, she wasn’t surprised at all to hear that since he was, he was directly involved; the Illusive Man always did like his little _pets_ after all, and Kai Leng had been one of his prized ones for quite some time. Much like Miranda herself had been, until she had defected and turned against him.

She was sorry to hear about Thane, who was currently in critical condition at Huerta Memorial after the attack on the councilor, and about Mordin, who Shepard said had sacrificed his life a few weeks previously in order to cure the Krogan genophage. In the middle of a war casualties were inevitable, but that didn’t make it any easier, and it filled Miranda with an overwhelming sense of anxiety as she feared the next notification of death that would come her way. As it was already, too many people she cared for had been sacrificed in the name of this war, and although she wished that would be the end of it, the chances of that were incredibly slim.

Shepard asked about Oriana, as Miranda had expressed her concerns about her sister’s safety the last time they had met, and Miranda told her that she was certain that her father had taken her now; but more than that, that she had reason to believe that Henry Lawson was working for the Illusive Man. She still wasn’t sure on all the facts however, and so when Shepard offered her assistance Miranda declined; the Commander had so much else to worry about right then, that she didn’t want to concern her with her own problems. In the end, she would save Oriana on her own; she was certain of it.

Before they parted ways, Miranda tentatively asked about Jack, and Shepard told her that her and her students were now on the front lines of the war and were, according to Jack, ‘kicking ass and taking names later’. While it made Miranda smile to hear that she was doing well, Jack being on the front lines of this war left her with a great feeling of unrest. And it must have shown on her face, because immediately afterwards, Shepard told her not to worry; that Jack, and her students, were all incredibly talented, and could take care of themselves. Miranda didn’t doubt that and yet still, with death all around them lately, it was hard not to be worried for her.

Shepard had told her before, about how close Jack seemed to be with those kids. Miranda had been curious, as Jack seemed to think she wouldn’t be any good at the job, but according to Shepard, she truly was the best person for it. She seemed to have formed a strong bond with them, calling her students ‘her kids,’ and if Miranda still had any doubt that she had done the right thing, it dissipated with that knowledge. Still, _how_ she had left her didn’t sit right with her anymore, and probably wouldn’t for a long time.

Eventually, after everything had calmed down a little, Miranda did find herself on the Citadel once more, asking Shepard for access to Alliance resources in order to help her save Oriana. Shepard granted her access without many questions, and soon Miranda found herself admitting to the fact that she had once wanted to implant a control chip in her as a safeguard when she was head of the Lazarus Project. It was strange, feeling so much guilt for the things she had done; there was once a time when she didn’t care who she hurt, so long as she got the job done. Rationalization and endgame results made things like guilt a nonfactor. Her time on the Normandy however, seemed to have changed that, and Miranda knew she had to come clean with the Commander, as sitting on that kind of information didn’t sit right with her anymore. Shepard had a right to know, and a right to an apology.

Shepard being Shepard, however, understood the bigger picture at the time and accepted her apology without much discussion; in the end, so many things mattered more than what Miranda could have, but didn’t do over a year and a half ago. With that off her chest, Miranda turned to leave, but before she could get out the door, something Shepard said stopped her in her tracks.

“She’s here, you know.”

Miranda knew who she was talking about without having to ask, and her breathing noticeably shallowed as she turned back around. “On the Citadel?” Miranda asked softly, this tightness settling in her gut at the information; she didn’t know if she was excited by that information, or absolutely bloody terrified of it.

“She’s on shore leave,” Shepard told her. “We’re supposed to meet for drinks in Purgatory, but I think…” She trailed off for a moment, seemingly reevaluating her stance before deciding that yes, it was a good idea, “I think you should meet her instead.”

Miranda laughed at that; loud, disbelieving, maybe even a little scared. “Why, so I can get punched in the face a few dozen times? She hates me, Shepard; and for bloody good reason.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll punch you,” Shepard responded with a small smirk, crossing the space between them. “And yes, probably a few dozen times at that. But I don’t believe she hates you, Miranda. If she did, I doubt she would be asking me about _you_ just as much as you ask about her.”

Suddenly, Miranda’s throat felt parched, and she wet her dry lips with the tip of her tongue for a moment as she looked down at the floor. “She… asks about me?” Miranda was so certain that her concern and interest was one sided that she hadn’t even contemplated that; she had known that she had hurt Jack, and had assumed the other woman would be rather spiteful when it came to what she wished upon her wellbeing.

“Well, if you want to get technical, she asks me if you’re ‘dead yet’.”

Miranda instantly deflated at those words. “That’s not exactly comforting, Shepard.”

“Miranda,” Shepard responded, her tone indicating that she was probably being stupid for taking something like that at face value. “You and I both know that Jack isn’t exactly comfortable expressing any other emotion besides anger. If she’s self-conscious, she’s angry. If she’s sad, she’s angry. If she’s _worried_ , she’s angry; do you see what I’m getting at here?”

“…Yes.” Because in the end, Miranda did know that better than most; it wasn’t as though their relationship wasn’t filled with Jack snapping in irritation over every little thing, after all. Jack could never really admit that she cared for her, at least not without acting like it was the most aggravating thing in the world. Anger was just Jack’s default; it was her mask, her source of comfort, and more importantly it was the wall around her heart so that no one could see her weaknesses.

“She may try to pass it off as spite, but every time I tell her that no, you aren’t dead yet, I can see the relief in her eyes.”

Miranda pursed her lips, her stomach doing summersaults inside her gut. She was nervous; the prospect of seeing Jack again, it… it frightened her a little, if she were being honest. Miranda was afraid to see first-hand how badly she had hurt the other woman.

“Go talk to her.”

“Shepard, I…” Miranda tried, shaking her head as she took a step backwards. “I can’t.”

“Miranda, we’re in the middle of a war,” Shepard reminded her. “There isn’t a guarantee that there will be a tomorrow for us. And frankly? You’ve got regret and longing written all over you, and it’s damn depressing to be around. So if you want something, now’s the time to take it, because you might not get a second chance at it.”

Miranda pursed her lips, knowing that was true. But yet even still, what would be the point of it? It was doubtful that Jack would even accept her apology, and even if she did, and by some miracle forgave her and still had feelings for her, they couldn’t be in a relationship again; Miranda was still on the run, Jack still had her students, and the war was far from over. A relationship just didn’t… it didn’t _fit_ anymore. But at the same time, Miranda feared that the next time she spoke to Shepard, the woman would be telling her that Jack was dead, and she couldn’t—this _couldn’t_ be how they left things between them; Jack deserved an explanation for what she had done, an apology for hurting her in the way that she had. Even if it amounted to nothing in the end, maybe it would at least give them a sense of closure.

“Miranda,” Shepard continued once the operative had been contemplatively silent for far too long. “ _Go._ ”

Miranda took a deep breath, tried to steel her nerves, and nodded in compliance. If nothing else, she knew she had to at least try. Still, the prospect of seeing Jack again frightened her quite terribly, as she was woefully ashamed of what she had done to her. Looking her in the eyes again… it was going to be very difficult, and Miranda still wasn’t certain that she could even do it.

And in the end, when finally faced with the image of Jack sitting alone at a small table in Purgatory, idly sipping her drink as she poured over a datapad, Miranda found that she wasn’t as brave as she was hoping to be.

She just stood there, from a distance, and stared at the other woman, unable to gather up the courage to approach her. Jack looked… Jack looked _different;_ she had let her hair grow out, the style rather extreme but not in an unflattering way, and it even looked like she was learning that clothes were meant to actually cover one’s body. Not by _much,_ as Jack was still showing a fair amount of skin, but she—God, to be quite honest, Miranda found the woman to be so incredibly gorgeous that she couldn’t help but stare at her like some sort of crazed stalker. The new look really flattered her, and in some backwards way that actually made her feel inadequate; like she didn’t have a leg to stand on here when she was coming back with the same old offer, while Jack could literally just sit there being bloody fucking beautiful and not say a damn word, and the only thing Miranda would hear is, _Look what your dumb ass threw away, Cheerleader; fucking sucks to want something you can’t have, doesn’t it?_

God, it was so juvenile, to even have that sort of thought process, as it wasn’t as though Miranda felt the need to ‘win’ the break up by coming back being even hotter than she was before she left, but if that was the competition here, Jack was clearly winning it regardless.

Miranda’s stomach was in knots, and everything she could think to say when she finally approached her was immediately thrown out as Miranda realized she had no idea how to do this. She was already horrible at relationships in general, and break ups filled with regret were apparently even worse; Miranda wasn’t exactly good at guilt, as she rarely even felt it, but with Jack… with _Jack_ things were different. They always had been, and maybe that said something as to exactly how important the other woman ended up being to her, but that didn’t change the fact that she was anxious, afraid, and completely lost on how to proceed.

And so she lost what little was left of her frazzled nerve, and decided not to at all.

But just as Miranda was about to turn to leave, it turned out that apparently, if you stare at someone long enough, they’re bound to notice. Their eyes connected, and as all the color drained from Jack’s face, Miranda felt as though she were about to vomit from the intense bout of fear that had settled itself in the pit of her stomach.

And God, Miranda Lawson didn’t run from anything; but her? Oh, _her_ she ran from.

It wasn’t because she was afraid of what Jack would do to her; she could take a punch, if not a couple dozen, and if she were being honest with herself then she would admit to deserving it. What she was afraid of was facing her again after all this time; she had thought—Miranda thought she could do this, but she just didn’t know _how,_ and the last thing she wanted to do was make things worse between them. In the end though, it seemed she wasn’t going to have a choice about that, as in her haste to just _hide_ she had barreled through the first door she came to, only to realize it wasn’t a through exit; it was a bathroom.

There was a cruel sort of irony about that, as the last conversation she and Jack even had was in a bathroom.

Miranda noticeably jumped as she turned around, hearing the bathroom door be slammed open as it collided heavily with the wall. Jack looked almost crazed with fury, and she didn’t even hesitate before her fist collided with Miranda’s jaw, causing the woman to be knocked back a few steps before steadying herself against the wall.

Well, it wasn’t as though she wasn’t expecting that. At least Jack didn’t charge it first with her biotics, as that could have very well broken her jaw, if not worse; in the end, maybe she didn’t want to hurt her as badly as she was able, but that was just a small comfort in the midst of the extreme emotional backlash that was currently going on inside this small bathroom.

“What the fuck!” Jack screamed, reeling her arm back as she prepared to hit her again. Miranda was more prepared for it this time though, and instinctively put up her barrier in order to block it. Jack didn’t seem to care though, didn’t even seem to want to bother with using her biotics to dispel it, and just kept hitting it, screaming obscenities at her over and over. “You _bitch;_ you selfish, backstabbing little cunt! You just fucking show up here like you’re—fuck you, _fuck you!_ ”

“Jack, _Jack!_ ” Miranda tried desperately, keeping her barrier up as Jack continued hitting it with uncoordinated, furious attacks that didn’t seem to be about hurting her, but just expressing her rage on something, _anything._ “Please, just let me—!” _try to explain,_ but Jack was hearing none of it.

“I trusted you, you stupid fucking bitch; I trusted you and you _fucked_ me!” Jack screamed, her fists starting to look reddened and raw as they repeatedly bashed against an abundance of biotic energy. “I should kill you, _I should fucking kill you!_ ”

“Jack, please,” Miranda begged, the guilt and sorrow she felt inside beginning to crush her as all the hurt, all the mistrust, and all the sadness, showed behind Jack’s darkened eyes as she tried desperately to cover it with anger and blame. Miranda’s throat tightened and her chest compressed, tears welling in her eyes as she found she absolutely hated herself for doing this to her. “I’m—I’m _sorry…_ ”

“No, fuck you!” Jack shouted, still pounding away at her barrier. “Fuck you, don’t you ever fucking apologize to me! Fuck you, _fuck you…!”_

She kept shouting obscenities at her, kept viciously attacking Miranda’s barrier until eventually, exhaustion took its toll and she collapsed on the floor, putting her head in her hands as she struggled to find her breath. Tears were streaming down Miranda’s face in lines, and as she finally allowed her barrier to come down her back slid against the wall, crumpling into an awkward position on the floor as she placed the back of her hand against her lips and tried to will herself to calm down.

“Fuck you,” Jack repeated, but she wouldn’t look at her and her voice sounded broken as she fisted her hand in her hair. “Fucking crying like you actually give a shit… _fuck_ you; you’re fucking nothing.”

Miranda looked up then, just in time to watch Jack quickly, yet violently wipe at her cheek, and suddenly Miranda didn’t know if Jack was even talking to her, or if she was talking to herself; and God, it broke her heart. “I thought… I thought it was the right thing to do,” Miranda breathed, her own voice broken and hoarse. “I wanted you to have a better life, Jack, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t give that to you; not with the way things are right now.”

“I hope you fucking choke on your bullshit sentiments, Cheerleader,” Jack responded furiously, finally looking at her. Although she, unlike Miranda, had seemed to will herself to stop crying, her eyes were still reddened and bloodshot. “I don’t give a _shit_ why you did it, because that doesn’t fucking change the fact that you walked out on me without saying a goddamn word! That was fucked, you’re _fucked_ , and I really hope that you regret doing it and are here to come crawling back to me, because that’ll make telling you to go fuck yourself even sweeter.”

“I don’t… I don’t know if I regret it or not,” Miranda hesitantly admitted, her voice barely above a whisper as she wiped away another tear that had traced the contour of her cheek. “I know you took the job, and I know you’ve been doing well for yourself, and that… in that aspect, I don’t regret walking away. But I never… I never meant to hurt you, Jack, and the fact that I did—”

“Fuck you,” Jack snapped, shaking her head as she picked herself up off the floor. “You didn’t mean to fucking hurt—is that a _joke?_ ”

Miranda had never felt so helpless in her life as she did right then. She didn’t know what to do, what to even say to make it better, but perhaps the solution she was searching for didn’t even exist. “I’m sorry,” she breathed, knowing any reasoning she would give her would be thrown back in her face anyhow; and in the end, maybe an apology shouldn’t be made up of excuses. “I know it doesn’t make a difference, but you… you have to know that. What I did, please understand that it wasn’t because I didn’t care; it was because you were the only bloody thing in my life that I truly _did_ care for.”

Another excuse perhaps, but Jack needed to know that; she needed to know that Miranda had felt so much for her, because if she hadn’t, she would have never walked away. She was so used to being selfish; for just taking things because _she_ wanted them, and not because it’d be good for anyone else. Leaving Jack, although done perhaps in the wrong way, was probably about the least selfish thing Miranda had ever done.

“What the fuck did I just say about apologizing to me?” Jack snapped, watching Miranda push herself off the floor to at least be at her height again. She felt a wreck; she _was_ a wreck. “I don’t give a shit if you cared about me, I don’t give a shit if your stupid ass fell in _love_ with me; that doesn’t change that fact that you’re a shitty fucking person! So why don’t you do me a favor and shove all those bullshit feelings you have for me, along with your stupid fucking apology, up that gigantic ass of yours and just _fuck off._ I’m not fucking interested in having you back in my life.”

Miranda had known that the chances of Jack wanting her back in her life again were slim, had even known that, even if she did, right now wasn’t the best time for either of them, and yet that still pierced her heart with an intensity she hadn’t been expecting because, God, she missed her—she missed every bloody fucking thing about her, and now that she had seen her, the possibility of that never happening again completely devastated her. Fuck, why, _why_ did she allow herself to fall this hard for her? She should have known better, she should have tried to stop it when this all first began, but she had been foolish, and now they were both paying the price for her idiocy.

“Jack, please don’t…” Miranda tried, her voice tightening with an emotion she couldn’t stop. “Please don’t make that kind of decision right now. I know that you’re upset with me—”

“No, _screw you!_ ” Jack shouted, practically launching herself at her until she had Miranda pressed up against the bathroom wall, her palm hitting the tile next to her head so hard it caused the woman beneath her to stiffen in defense. “Don’t fucking stand there and tell me how to run _my_ life!” she continued, practically screaming in Miranda’s face. “You lost your chance, princess; you fucking had something and like the self-absorbed cunt you are, you just threw it away like it was nothing, and fuck, I really hope that it’s _killing_ you now.”

“It is,” Miranda breathed, voice breaking in her throat as she looked into the other woman’s eyes. What was the point in denying it? Jack could probably see it written all over her face anyhow.

Jack’s lips twisted into this half-smile, half-sneer as she stressed, “ _Good._ Now listen to me very fucking carefully, Cheerleader, because I’m only going to say this once.” Leaning in close, Jack placed herself not even a full inch from Miranda’s face as she slowly annunciated, “I. _Fucking._ Hate you; and if I ever see you again, I will not hesitate to beat you to _death_. Are we clear?”

It was pure bravado, and Miranda knew that, but that didn’t stop it from hurting her. “Jack…”

Jack slammed her open palm against the wall again, making Miranda’s barrier briefly flare up before it dissipated. “I said _are we fucking clear?!”_

“Yes,” Miranda breathed, because she knew Jack needed her to understand how upset she was. But what else had she really been expecting? This was _Jack,_ of course she was going to punch her and scream at her and threaten her life; she couldn’t talk about her feelings. _Miranda_ could barely even talk about her feelings, but she at least was willing to try. She should have known Jack wouldn’t be willing to do the same. She had hurt her, betrayed her trust, when Jack had a hard time even trusting her in the first place, trusting _anyone_ in the first place. But Miranda had broken down those walls and Jack had let her in, and now… now everything was a mess, because she had screwed it all up.

She should have talked to her before she left; she should have had the courage to tell her that she was leaving, instead of just running away in order to try to make things easier on herself. She did the right thing, yes, but she went about it the very, _very_ wrong way.

Some small part of her had foolishly hoped that, once this was all over, they might have a chance of picking things up where they left off. What she felt for Jack wasn’t something that happened to her very often, and so it wasn’t an easy thing to get over; but that was stupid, wasn’t it? Why would she think that Jack would even give her a second chance after what she had done? First chances were hardly in her nature, let alone second ones.

Miranda had destroyed what they had, and maybe it was time she learned to accept that.

Jack looked at her for a long time, maybe trying to look for the acceptance in Miranda’s eyes that she hadn’t yet learned how to have. But in the end, saying that she understood Jack’s ‘terms’ must have been enough for her, because she finally pushed off the wall and stepped away from her. “We’re fucking done here,” she told her, voice filled with anger and hurt and everything else that made Miranda’s heart ache as she watched her walk away.

But before she left completely, Miranda called out to her one last time. “Jack!” The convict turned, looking furious that she would even dare to utter her name, but Miranda had to say it, she had to… she had to let her know how much she still cared, and how frightened she was for her during this war, because no matter what the other woman said, that didn’t change. “Don’t die, okay?”

Jack steeled her jaw, emotion flickering behind her eyes as she was no doubt reminded of the time she had said that to _her,_ the time when they realized they meant more to one another than just sex. But Jack didn’t respond with the same; in the end, her pride and anger would never allow her to, and so as she turned away to walk out the door, the only thing she said in response was a furious, “Screw you.”

And it broke Miranda’s heart.

**TBC…**


	11. XI

**XI.**

A month passed, and suddenly Shepard was smack dab in the middle of the mess on Horizon, helping Miranda save her sister from her controlling and abusive father.

Miranda didn’t know why she was surprised; the woman always did have a knack of showing up at the right place at just the right time, and to be honest, while she originally didn’t think she needed help, she was immensely thankful that Shepard had shown up, as her show down with Kai Leng had left her considerably worse for wear. It infuriated her, to be bested in that way, especially by someone who was nothing but an indoctrinated lap dog of her former boss, but in the end Kai Leng mattered so very little, when suddenly her father had a gun on her and was using Oriana as a human shield. 

Shepard tried to talk him down, had even managed to succeed with some well-placed threats, but Miranda couldn’t just let him walk; she had a chance here, a real _chance_ to finally live free of her father, a chance to guarantee both her and Oriana’s safety so that neither of them ever had to go into hiding again, and so she took it. 

He screamed as her biotics pushed him through the window; it was easily the most satisfying sound Miranda had ever heard, even more so than the crunching sound of bones when his body hit the floor. Even now, just thinking of it, it made her smile. Miranda had never been one for killing; she did it out of necessity, not because it gave her pleasure, but that… oh _that_ gave her a high so intense that Miranda doubted anything else would ever come close to it.

She wished she could have told Jack about it.

Miranda remembered when they spoke about killing him, and she reckoned the woman would have been proud of her; at least, if she didn’t currently hate the air that Miranda even _breathed._ In the end though, Jack was only a brief thought as she enveloped her sister in her arms, realizing that for the first time in as long as she could remember, she truly had a family.

And it was strange, realizing that she wasn’t alone in the world anymore.

Soon afterwards Miranda joined the war effort, although she was still getting a few sideways looks from the Alliance due to her past affiliation with Cerberus. She procured herself a private fighter though, knowing she would have to prove herself with or without the Alliance’s backing, and soon she found herself teaming up with former colleagues to strike at miscellaneous Cerberus bases. Between that and providing valuable anti-Cerberus intel to the Alliance, eventually she seemed to earn something resembling actual approval from the people who were once her enemies. It was strange, and yet… and yet in all honesty, Miranda had never felt a more fulfilling sense of duty.

She spoke to Oriana often, and they were quickly becoming close. Perhaps in the end though, it was inevitable that they would get on; they were genetically identical, after all, down to the very last strand of DNA. But even still, there were so many differences between them that it was a wonder how they even could hold a conversation with each other. 

Miranda was so contained, while Oriana was vibrant and excitable; she smiled like it was so easy for her, whereas many years of military life had hardened Miranda to the point that only a selective few would ever be on the receiving end of such a gesture. And Oriana was _funny;_ she was witty and had such a wonderful sense of humor, while Miranda couldn’t tell a joke even if her life depended on it. But it was nice, being able to speak with her whenever she wanted; Miranda had spent so many years wishing that she didn’t have to leave her behind, yet knowing that in the end, it really had been the safest thing for her, and would provide her with a better life than Miranda would have ever been able to give her.

Which, now that she thought about it, was precisely what she had done to Jack. Apparently she hadn’t changed as much as she had thought over the last fifteen years, because she was still going back to the same default when it came to people she cared about.

“What; what is it?” Oriana asked curiously, causing Miranda’s gaze to drag back to the holocam on her desk where she was speaking with her sister. “You totally spaced out on me for a second there; what were you thinking about? You just got this really funny look on your face.”

“Nothing, I’m just—I’m sorry, Ori,” Miranda apologized, running her hands over her face for a moment as she exhaled a long breath. “I’m probably just tired; it’s been a long day. What were you saying?”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this that easily,” Oriana responded, smirking as she folded her legs under herself on the couch. “Come on, you’re always asking about what’s going on in my life, but I hardly know anything about yours; so tell me what’s wrong, because I know it’s not just that you’re tired.”

Miranda sighed. Was she really so easy to read?

But Oriana was right; Miranda hardly ever talked about herself, and perhaps that really wasn’t fair. Her sister wanted to get to know her just as much as she did her, after all. And so, after a long pause, Miranda finally admitted, “I got invited to a housewarming party.”

Oriana’s brow lifted. “And that’s bothering you because… you don’t like parties?” she guessed, to which Miranda snorted.

“No, it’s not the party itself. I _do_ know how to have fun, you know,” Miranda responded, a small smirk peeking out despite herself. But then she got serious, and exhaled another long sigh. “It’s just… I believe someone is going to be there as well and it could potentially become… well, fairly awkward, to say the least; if not full on violent.”

“What, like an enemy of yours?”

“Former lover, actually.”

Suddenly, Oriana looked _very_ interested as she leaned closer towards the holocam. “Ohh, really? You _must_ tell me all about him!” After a decidedly long silence though, Oriana’s brow rose. “Or her? Or… are they a mono-gender species like an asari? I’m not xenophobic or anything; I wouldn’t judge.”

“She’s… a human female,” Miranda answered, wishing this conversation didn’t feel as uncomfortable to her as it did; but then again, it wasn’t often that she talked to anyone about her personal life. “And we didn’t exactly leave things on the best of terms; I… sort of disappeared without saying anything to her, and while I firmly believe that it was for her own good – because I wanted her to have a better life than what I could have provided for her at the time – she… I don’t think she sees it the same way.”

“Sounds familiar.”

“Yes, that’s… that was what I just realized, actually,” Miranda admitted, running her fingers through her hair as she leaned back in her chair. “I suppose I have a default when it comes to the people I care about. But is it so terrible, to want something better for someone than what you yourself could give them?”

“No, I don’t think it is,” Oriana responded, her expression masking in sympathy. “And Miri, I don’t—I don’t blame you, for walking away. I ended up with loving parents and I had a great life; save my birth father kidnapping me that one time, of course.” She cracked a smirk, and it echoed on Miranda’s face. “I mean, of course I wish I knew you so much sooner than this, but if you’re ever worried that I don’t understand why you did what you did, just know that I… I do, okay?”

Miranda smiled, feeling like for once, she wasn’t getting everything wrong. “Thank you, Ori.”

“I really should be the one thanking you actually. You’ve saved me more times than I can even count.”

Miranda chuckled softly, shaking her head as she downplayed it. “It’s nothing, really. I suppose that’s just what one does for family, you know?”

Oriana smiled at her, but as she watched Miranda’s own expression fade and her eyes avert, her brow creased and she asked, “You’re really hung up on her, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Miranda admitted softly, albeit a little reluctantly as she turned her eyes back to the holocam. “I suppose I am. Feeling something for someone, it doesn’t—it’s not something that happens to me very often, and I… I miss her. And I know it’s foolish; it’s been nearly a year and we’re in the middle of a war and, even if she didn’t despise my very existence, there was no way we could make it work with her being on the front lines and me being stuck here but…” Miranda sighed, shaking her head. “That doesn’t change the fact that I simply miss being with her. It’s all rather pathetic, honestly.”

“Do you love her?” Oriana asked curiously, tilting her head to the side.

“No, nothing that intense,” Miranda responded, because she did know that at least. Still, in the end though, not being in love with Jack didn’t make it any easier to be away from her. “To be honest, we weren’t even together that long, and the majority of our relationship was rather… physical; but there was something about her that… that I just _connected_ with, you know? And honestly if you ever met her you’d probably think I was insane, as we come from entirely different backgrounds and don’t look at all like we would ever get along. Although I suppose in the end we still didn’t, not really, but it was that sense of struggle with her that I really enjoyed; it gave our relationship this kind of push and pull aspect that kept things interesting. Jack was… Jack was _fire,_ and I loved that it burned when I touched her.”

Realizing she had said far more than she intended to, Miranda’s cheeks reddened as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m—I’m sorry, that was… probably far more information than you needed to know; I didn’t expect to start rambling.”

“I think it’s sweet actually,” Oriana responded with a smile, and while it didn’t lessen Miranda’s embarrassment any, it at least made her feel better that she hadn’t managed to embarrass her sister in the process. Apparently, once someone finally got her talking about it, everything just began to spill out without any sense or reason; although it probably helped that she trusted Oriana, despite only just beginning to get to know her. “Have you told her how you feel?”

“Jack and I don’t talk about feelings,” Miranda told her with a sigh. “We’re both bloody awful at it; even admitting that we seemed to have fallen into a relationship with one another was like pulling teeth. I can’t—I could never say those kinds of things to her.”

“Why not?”

“It’s… awkward,” Miranda struggled to get out, trying to make sense of her feelings. “Romanticism isn’t exactly my thing; perhaps I can say the right words every now and again, and enjoy a sense of closeness with someone, but it’s never any kind of large-scale declaration, which is what that would be. She knows I care about her though, and she knows that I regret hurting her; I have said that much, at least.”

“But if you want to win her back and, from what I’m reading off of you right now, that’s exactly what you want, despite the war and despite having to figure out how to do something long distance,” Oriana began and, damnit, was she suddenly transparent now? “I think maybe a large-scale declaration might be the thing, especially if that’s not something she’s used to from you; it will make an impression.”

“How is it that _you_ are giving _me_ relationship advice right now?” Miranda asked, finding this situation extremely bizarre. She was the older sibling after all; shouldn’t this be the other way around? 

Oriana giggled.

“Because I don’t have a love life and yours is apparently in shambles?” she guessed, prompting Miranda to roll her eyes at the word ‘shambles’, like it was some kind of gross overestimate even though it really was a fairly accurate description. “Besides, I read a lot of romance novels and that’s got to be good for something.”

“Perhaps,” Miranda agreed, although she still didn’t know if outright stating all that she felt for Jack was the way to go with this. 

“But…?” Oriana prompted, noticing the conflicted look on her sister’s face. Miranda sighed.

“But there’s a part of me that’s…” Miranda hesitated, not really sure she wanted to even admit this. But maybe she needed to start talking to people, maybe she needed to start trusting people, and if she couldn’t do that with her own sister, then who could she do it with? “That’s… _afraid,_ I suppose, that she’ll just… throw it back in my face. Jack isn’t the most delicate person in the world, and she’s still very angry with me.”

“Well you never know until you try,” Oriana suggested lightly and yes, that was true. Still, exposing herself in that way would leave her extremely vulnerable, and that wasn’t exactly something Miranda was comfortable with. “Just go to the party, Miri; you never know, it could be the best decision you’ve ever made.”

“Or it could very well be the worst.”

Oriana rolled her eyes at her pessimism. “Just _go._ You know you want to. If you didn’t, you probably wouldn’t have even brought it up to me.”

Well that… that was true, Miranda realized. How was it that, already, her sister knew her so well? Miranda had always thought of herself as a rather closed off sort of person, but perhaps she was more transparent than she originally thought. Or maybe it was that Oriana was one of the few people who had ever bothered to look close enough to see what lay underneath. 

Chewing lightly on the inside of her cheek, Miranda glanced up to see her sister’s encouraging smile in the holocam, and she finally nodded, relenting to at least try. After all, she had already lost Jack, so it wasn’t as though this could get any worse.

But perhaps those were just going to turn out to be famous last words.

[x]

“What the fuck is _she_ doing here?”

Well, already this was going _swimmingly_ , wasn’t it?

Miranda stood in the entrance to Shepard’s apartment, everyone’s eyes having turned to her at Jack’s little outburst. Generally, Miranda didn’t mind attention, good or bad, but this really was fairly awkward; most of these people had been around when she had left without a word of goodbye, and knew exactly what it was that she had done to Jack. Perhaps it was a bad idea to come here. But Miranda just straightened her spine and steeled her jaw, intent on not having the woman drive her out when she had only just gotten here. “I was invited,” she responded stiffly.

“Which you were aware of, Jack, so don’t act like this is suddenly news,” Shepard responded flatly, thoroughly unamused by the woman’s response to Miranda’s presence, especially since, apparently, she already knew that the operative was coming. “Look, I care about both of you, but I don’t want any drama tonight; so if you really feel the need to fight about your failed relationship like a couple of angsty teenagers, then I’m going to forewarn you that I will not hesitate to kick both of your asses all over this apartment. Am I making myself clear?”

“Whatever, Shepard; you wanna screw up your own party by inviting the Cerberus bitch, then that’s on you. I really couldn’t give half a fuck,” Jack scoffed, folding her arms across her chest and shooting Miranda a fierce glare that she really wished didn’t bother her as much as it did. Why did she let Ori talk her into coming here? No matter what she said to Jack, she doubted it would make a difference; like it or not, they had fallen back to square one, and it was doubtful that they’d ever make it back to where they once were.

“I’m not with Cerberus anymore,” Miranda tried to defend, looking at Jack with disbelief because, wasn’t she aware of that already? Surely she must be. “I haven’t been for quite a while.” But the woman just snorted in response, completely uncaring because apparently, that really hadn’t been her point.

“Maybe not, but you’re still a grade A _bitch;_ aren’t you, Cheerleader?”

“Jack,” Shepard warned, but Jack just threw up her hands like a white flag and took a couple steps backwards.

“Relax, Shep; we’re good. I got better shit to do than deal with the bitch anyway.”

As Jack finally turned and walked into another room, although not before shooting her former lover a sarcastic smile and a flip of her middle finger, Miranda released a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. “I’m sorry,” she apologized to Shepard, feeling awful for bringing this kind of unpleasantness into an environment that, for all intents and purposes, was supposed to be _fun._ “Perhaps I shouldn’t have come.”

“Ignore her; she can act antagonistic all she wants, but it’s not going to change the fact that everyone knows she’s been waiting for you to show up all night.”

Miranda’s brow rose in surprise.

“Jack may be many things, Miranda,” Shepard told her with an amused smirk. “But subtle? Isn’t one of them. She’s been practically ready to pounce every time the doorbell rang.”

“She just wants to reaffirm her hatred for me, Shepard; I hardly think that’s anything to be overjoyed about,” Miranda responded sullenly, wishing she knew how to mask her disappointment better. This wasn’t at all how she wanted this to go, but perhaps she had been foolish in hoping for anything different.

“She’s just upset; give her time.”

“It’s been a _year._ ”

“And she’s only seen you twice,” Shepard reminded her. “Give her some time to adjust to your presence, Miranda; her bitterness isn’t going to just magically disappear just because you want it to.” Placing her hand on the small of her back, Shepard guided her former subordinate over to the bar then and encouraged, “Come on, have a drink with us; you’ll feel better.”

And for a while, she did. She got to catch up with Tali and Jacob, the latter of whom she was happy to find out was expecting his first child. She also got to know Liara a little better and, generally speaking, she was having a fairly good time.

Although it probably helped that Jack seemed to make a point to stay in a different room than her, a decision which Miranda didn’t feel the need to challenge, as perhaps it would be best if she didn’t violate the space that the other woman clearly needed. In the end though, if Jack wished to speak with her, then Miranda knew she would; pushing the issue would only result in a fight that Miranda didn’t want Shepard to have to deal with, especially since she already seemed to have enough headaches as it was.

“God damnit, Kasumi, for the last time, stop going through my underwear drawer!”

Kasumi, for the most part, had been running around the entire apartment cloaked, getting in everyone’s business and even sitting on Vega’s back during him and Jacob’s little dick measuring competition that, for the most part, included a demonstration of physical prowess. Miranda had a heavy eye roll reserved for that, but at least Ashley seemed to be enjoying the show. Still, Kasumi’s little invisibility addiction grated on Miranda’s nerves, as a part of her still wasn’t over the woman ratting her out to Jack back on the Normandy. In the end though, the woman seemed to be entertaining herself with bothering Shepard, which, so long as she wasn’t in Miranda’s business, the operative was perfectly fine with. Tonight was supposed to be fun, after all; and she already had enough drama as it was with Jack.

As Shepard was torn away from the underwear incident to deal with Wrex and Grunt’s _Krogan_ version of a dick measuring competition (what was it with males and their incessant need to come off as physically superior?), Miranda turned away from the scene and headed towards the bar to refresh her drink. Unfortunately however, she was stopped about halfway there by EDI.

“Operative Lawson, I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time to speak with you about breasts.”

Miranda blinked. “I’m—I’m sorry?” she asked, wondering if she had heard the AI right. It was strange enough, seeing EDI walk around with an actual, physical body, but now she wanted to talk about _breasts?_ That… didn’t exactly seem like a topic that would be of interest to an artificial intelligence. 

Apparently however, she couldn’t have been more wrong about that.

“I would like to speak with you about breasts,” EDI repeated, completely serious. “I have estimated that we share roughly the same measurements and I have some questions regarding the fascination they seem to evoke in a wide variety of species; do you have a minute?”

“Not… _right_ at this second, EDI, but perhaps if I get a free moment we can discuss it later,” Miranda answered, trying to be polite despite how odd she found this entire conversation; it wasn’t exactly what she had been expecting when the AI approached her after all, and she was eager to get out of it. Besides, if she were being completely honest, EDI’s newfound body and independence unnerved her a little; she knew Shepard trusted her, but an unshackled AI was a huge risk. “In the meantime, perhaps you could ask Liara; she’s also… well endowed.”

Or in other words, please just ask anyone else _other_ than her, because this was not a particular topic that she wished to get into; she was already more than aware of the stares she garnered because of her chest size, but she felt no need to provide some kind of in depth analysis when the short answer was that the general populous was rather perverted. 

“I have considered that, but Doctor T’Soni’s breasts are noticeably larger and I don’t feel as though it would make for an accurate comparison, as I have noted more individuals stare considerably longer at our chests than at hers. I have hypostasized that it is perhaps because you are human, and I myself have taken a rather similar form, whereas she is an asari.”

“I really don’t believe the fact that she’s an asari makes any difference,” Miranda told her, wishing the AI would have just given her an out when she had suggested she speak to someone else about her… curiosities. “I’m sure people are just too afraid of what Shepard would do to them if she caught them staring at her girlfriend’s breasts for too long.”

“That is a very plausible hypothesis, Operative Lawson, thank you for your input,” EDI responded gratefully, and Miranda forced an awkward smile in return. “I will look forward to speaking to you about this further at a later time.”

And then, thankfully, she was gone, and Miranda found herself exhaling a disbelieving breath as she made her way towards the bar. She stopped short however at the sight of Jack and the newest addition to the party, that… _Traynor_ woman, flirting in an extremely blatant manner. She was standing up against the bar with Jack practically on top of her, one hand leaning on the edge of the marble countertop as she whispered something in the other woman’s ear. Traynor laughed at whatever Jack had said, her fingers gently brushing the teacher’s hip, and Miranda suddenly felt like she was either going to break something or be very ill.

She turned around so fast that she nearly slammed smack into Vega, who held out his hands and exclaimed, “Whoa, where you going in such a hurry, Mama?” 

“I… apologize,” Miranda struggled to get out, feeling a little emotionally frazzled at the moment, which seemed to cut through her usual confident demeanor. Jack had always had a way of stripping her of that though, whether the woman realized it or not; although Miranda was certain the amount of alcohol she had consumed didn’t provide her many favors in that area either. “I didn’t see you.”

Although she wasn’t exactly sure _how;_ the man was as big as a house.

Vega smirked as he leaned against the threshold of the door, looking like he was settling in to hit on her or something else that she completely did not need at that moment, which apparently Shepard noticed as well, because she slapped him on the arm as she bypassed him, saying, “Barking up the wrong tree there, soldier,” before she entered the other room, thankfully giving Miranda the out she needed. She didn’t particularly want to have to deal with shooting anyone down right then; she just wanted to get the hell away from Jack and whatever she was planning to do to that Traynor woman before the former even noticed that she was there.

That plan however, was shot to hell when Shepard took notice of the two of them and immediately decided to intervene with an exasperated, “Jack, what did I say earlier? Stop trying to drag someone else into your drama.”

Jack looked up as Traynor turned around in surprise, a glare being painted across the former convict’s face as she exclaimed irritably, “What the fuck, Shep; you’ve been taking cock blocking classes or something? Piss off.”

“If it was anyone else you were doing this to, I probably would, but Sam came here late and is walking into this blind,” Shepard reprimanded as she poured herself another drink. “That isn’t fair to her; she doesn’t know about your history.”

“I’m sorry, am I missing something?” Traynor asked, completely confused by the sudden shift in the atmosphere in the room. Suddenly, people started to realize Miranda was actually still frozen in the doorway during all of this, and as all eyes suddenly turned on her, the operative felt the desperate need to be elsewhere as she quickly turned around, but not before Jack saw her, and not before Traynor seemed to realize what the problem was with a rather disappointed acknowledgement of, “… _Oh._ ”

Miranda didn’t stay to hear the rest of the conversation.

She felt so foolish, for allowing Jack to even get to her like this, when she knew that, logically, the entire reason the woman was even hitting on Traynor was to make her jealous. She obviously still felt the need to get back at her after all, and Miranda felt like an idiot for making that goal embarrassingly easy for her to achieve. It was beginning to really bother her, how much she bloody cared about the other woman; and perhaps in the end it was just the alcohol in her system causing her to become frustrated with how things were turning out, but a part of her was wondering why she was even bothering. Why was she allowing herself to get so hung up on Jack when the woman clearly wasn’t willing to give her a second chance? It was nothing short of masochistic, and she needed to—she needed to just make it _stop,_ because she didn’t like the person she was becoming because of it.

She felt needy. _Weak._ Absolutely and completely bloody pathetic.

And she was done with it.

Which was what she told herself over and over after she had retreated upstairs and into Shepard’s adjoining bathroom, just trying to find some sense of privacy while she leaned over the sink, looked in the mirror, and basically coached herself to regard Jack as nothing more than a wall fixture. And it may have worked if she had had more time to do so, but not long afterwards the bathroom door was angrily pushed open by the very woman she was trying to avoid, and suddenly Miranda found herself trapped in a small room with the problem she didn’t want to face.

Damnit, what the hell was it with them and bathrooms?

“You fucking told Shepard to do that!” she accused, pointing at her angrily. “Do you need a goddamn hearing aid or something? What the fuck part of stay out of my life didn’t you understand?!”

“I didn’t _tell_ Shepard to do anything,” Miranda defended, quickly growing upset that this was leading to yet another fight that she just, damnit, she just didn’t have the effort for! “It’s not my bloody fault that you were embarrassing yourself by hitting on that woman, when everyone knows the only reason you were even doing so was to make me jealous. Which you succeeded in, by the way, so I would appreciate if you stopped handling this break up so damn childishly and just leave me alone if you don’t wish to reconcile, because I just don’t have the effort for this anymore, Jack, I just _don’t._ ”

“Fuck you, you don’t have the ‘effort’ for it!” Jack shouted, closing the door behind her so that either Shepard wouldn’t hear them fighting with each other and intervene, or to frankly just keep Miranda here so she could continue to scream at her. “Because suddenly it’s some big fucking burden for you to be a raging cunt now?”

“How can you even—how are you making me out to be such a _villain_ right now?” Miranda asked incredulously, staring at the other woman like she couldn’t make heads or tails of her thought process. “I have never approached you with anything other than apology and regret, and yet you’re making it seem like I’m filled with all this animosity towards you when, in actuality, the only one here that can even closely resemble the word ‘cunt’ is _you_ for how you’ve been acting toward _me._ ”

“Oh, _fuck_ you—”

“No, I’m not finished!” Miranda practically shouted, interrupting Jack mid-sentence. Approaching her, Miranda got right up in her space as she continued angrily, “And the sad part is that I don’t even know why I’m surprised! I don’t know how I can look at you and see anything other than an emotionally stunted teenager in a woman’s body, and I don’t know how I had ever bloody expected that there might be a way for us to move past this, when you can’t find the maturity to default to any emotion other than anger!”

“And the worst part? The most ridiculous fucking part of all of this?” Miranda continued, apparently on a tirade now that later she would be sure to blame on the liquor in her system, rather than all the emotions inside of her that she never really had any hope of trying to control now that she had begun to let them out. “Is that I still want you; for some bloody, stupid arse reason, I can list out everything that’s wrong with you, everything that makes you an irritating person and an even less than stellar romantic partner, and I’ll still want you regardless of all that. And I am _sick_ of it, Jack; I am sick of being emotionally torn to pieces because I’m still hung up on a woman who has absolutely no intention of even _trying_ to understand why I did what I did, nor is willing to accept my apology for going about it in the wrong way. So tell me, what’s the point? What the hell is the bloody _point?!_ ”

She shoved her then, just frustrated beyond belief with Jack, with herself, with this entire situation. “Don’t fucking touch me, Cheerleader—”

“Fuck you!” Miranda shouted, apparently having reached the end of her rope as she pointedly shoved Jack again, just wishing that the woman would get the hell out of her life, because she hated the person she was becoming because of her; she hated how upset she was, she hated how much she _cared_ , when Jack apparently couldn’t be arsed to return the sentiment. “Why am I the only one who’s getting ripped to shreds because of this; did you even care for me at all, or are you only pissed at me because when I walked away from you in front of everyone, it wounded your precious _pride?_ ”

“You think I didn’t care?!” Jack shouted, apparently becoming deeply offended by that as she shoved Miranda’s hands off of her. “You think I didn’t fucking _care?_ You were the only thing I _did_ care about in my pathetic excuse of an existence back then, you selfish bitch; and yet you still fucked off on me!”

“What I did wasn’t _selfish!_ ” Miranda exclaimed, shoving Jack backwards again because, apparently, the former convict wasn’t the only one who’s lack of emotional capability made them fairly juvenile. Again, Miranda would rather blame the alcohol than herself. “Stop calling me selfish, when letting you go was one of the most decidedly un-selfish things I have ever done in my entire life! Do you think it was _easy_ for me? Despite my better judgment I had grown attached to you, Jack; and walking away from you made me feel sick, but you deserved better in life than what I could have given you at the time!”

“Well maybe back then I thought that _you_ were the best thing life had ever given me, did you ever fucking stop to think of that?!” Jack shouted, apparently not registering the intensity of that statement as she kept yelling. “I don’t give a tiny rat’s ass if you think something else is better for me or not; how I feel and what I do with my life isn’t for you to fucking decide!”

But Miranda barely heard the rest of that, what Jack had said before making her freeze in place as she stared at her, a myriad of emotions playing out across her face. Her lack of a response seemed to clue Jack in as to what she had actually revealed, and as her face noticeably paled, Miranda was already halfway through denial because no, if Jack had felt that way about her, then she wouldn’t be acting like this right now; she would have at least _tried_ to listen to her, and not push her away at every little turn.

But this was Jack she was talking about, and she was fairly drunk, and honestly, not a damn bit of any of this made sense to her anymore; all she knew right now was that she was just very, very _upset._

“Don’t say things like that!” Miranda demanded, shoving her again because, in all honesty, she didn’t know what else to do anymore. She just wanted Jack away from her. “Don’t you dare use something like that just to make me feel terrible, Jack; this isn’t a goddamn joke!”

“Miranda, stop fucking—stop _shoving_ me!” Jack shouted, getting fed up with Miranda’s need to outwardly express her frustration, which at least gave her a way to avoid the present conversation. She pushed Miranda’s hands off of her, but the older woman wouldn’t stop.

“No, I am sick of you!” Miranda shouted, pushing her back so hard this time that Jack’s back actually collided with the wall. “I am sick to death of you, of _this_ , and I just want this to be over, Jack; I want all of this to just be bloody—”

“I said stop fucking shoving me, Miranda; _fuck!_ ” Jack exclaimed fiercely, her hands hitting the operative’s shoulders this time as she pushed her off of her in one fluid motion. However, she seemed to not calculate the force of the push very accurately, because instead of just shoving Miranda backwards a step, it was a full three until she reached the edge of the hot tub, lost her balance, and fell in with a surprised shout.

“Shit, _shit!_ ” Jack swore as she immediately barreled in after her, scooping Miranda up in her arms as she brought her to the surface of the water. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to—are you okay?! _Did you hit your head?_ ” Miranda couldn’t answer though, too busy coughing up the water she swallowed as Jack practically cradled her against her body. “Miranda!”

“I’m—” She coughed a few more times, hitting Jack’s shoulder to try to get the woman to loosen her damn grip. “Trying to—fucking _breathe,_ you stupid arsehole!”

“Jesus,” Jack breathed, practically slumping against her as she leaned her forehead against hers, apparently relieved by the other woman’s animosity towards her, as it proved she wasn’t as hurt as she feared she had been. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry; I didn’t— _fuck._ ”

Miranda closed her eyes then, the coughing having subsided as she buried her face in Jack’s neck, just wishing that the stupid woman didn’t hold so much power over her emotions. She was just so tired, so upset, so drunk, and feeling so bloody helpless that the combined intensity of all those things made a tear fall down her cheek as Jack held her close to her soaked body. 

“I hate what you’ve turned me into,” Miranda breathed, her voice becoming choked with emotion. “I bloody hate that I cry over you; I don’t cry over anyone, over _anything_ and you—you’ve ruined me, broke something inside of me, and I— I _hate_ you for it, Jack. I bloody hate you for it…”

“Miranda…” Jack tried, her voice barely above a whisper; her tone was tight, strained with her own emotion that she hated showing just as much as Miranda did. But the operative just shoved herself out of Jack’s arms, shaking her head as she tried to fight the feeling inside of her that she was starting to contribute to weakness, because feeling something for someone was clearly doing nothing else but dragging her down, and that wasn’t something she needed right then.

“ _What?_ ” she asked, the word practically choking in her throat as she turned to face the other woman, only to have her heart stop in her chest as she watched Jack’s mascara run down her cheeks in jagged lines, the other woman staring at her with an emotion Miranda didn’t know how to name.

“I…” Jack began, trying to form words as she looked absolutely bloody terrified by the woman in front of her. But Jack either found her courage, or was just too tired to lie to her anymore, and finally told her in a defeated breath, “…I really fucking hate you for it too.”

Miranda released a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, choked back some more of her tears, and then moved before she could think better of it, grasping the sides of Jack’s head as she firmly pressed her lips against hers. She didn’t—she just didn’t know what else to do, everything inside of her just bubbling over to the point of no longer knowing how to express how she was feeling with words. 

And Jack, apparently having found herself in the same predicament as Miranda, let her do it.

They grasped for one another, the kiss they shared bruising yet fairly uncoordinated as neither of them really knew what they were doing, or even how they should be feeling towards one another. Miranda tangled her fingers in the other woman’s hair before shoving her shoulder in frustration, more tears spilling down her cheeks as she realized that Jack was the chaos that had invaded her once well-managed life, and a part of her hated herself for craving something so disastrously unpredictable because of course this would be the result; of _course_ it would completely ruin her, and yet still, there she was coming back for more, because apparently she wore masochism fairly well these days.

“I hate you,” Miranda panted against her lips as Jack tore at the wet fabric that stuck to her body. “I hate what you’ve done to me; I _hate_ you…!”

“Shut up,” Jack demanded, cutting Miranda’s words off with a fierce kiss that left her breathless and wanting as she shoved the woman’s soaked leather jacket down off of her shoulders. “Just shut the fuck up!” 

She sunk her teeth into the base of Miranda’s neck then and the operative threw her head back and groaned, fingernails digging into Jack’s shoulder before she forcefully pushed her backwards, causing the woman to fall against one of the resting ledges of the hot tub before she clambered on top of her, straddled her waist, and kissed her with every ounce of longing she’d kept locked up inside of her for the past year.

It was frustrating and more than a little difficult, trying to undress each other in the water. Jack completely tore her cat suit in her frantic effort to strip her from it, and Miranda hadn’t expected Jack’s cargo pants to be so damn heavy when they were drenched. But they eventually removed all their clothing, and Jack grabbed Miranda’s ass as she guided her back on top of her, kissing her with a passionate fury of teeth, tongue, and uncontrollable emotion, before finally slipping three of her fingers deep inside of her.

Miranda grasped for her head, fingernails scraping over the shaved part of Jack’s skull as she gasped hard against her lips at the more than welcome invasion. “Fuck,” she breathed, her inner muscles squeezing around Jack’s lithe fingers. “I’ve missed you,” she admitted in a broken whisper. “I’ve missed everything that you bloody are, and God, I _despise_ you for it; for making me crave you, for turning me into something I was never supposed to be…”

“ _Stop,_ ” Jack begged, still sounding rather emotional herself as Miranda watched another black line trace the contour of her cheek. “Stop fucking making me—just shut up, please just _shut the fuck up!_ ” She kissed her then, just trying to make Miranda’s words cease as she fucked her, prompting the woman atop her to moan as she desperately reached for every part of Jack that she could grasp, just wanting to take every single bit of her in and burn it to memory, in case this was nothing but some screwed up way to finally find a sense of closure with one another.

Despite Jack’s desperation to make her be quiet, she didn’t fuck her into silent submission; instead she took her time with it, perhaps just trying to do the same thing that Miranda was and commit it to memory as she finally, eventually, trusted that Miranda would stop speaking and cause her to feel things she didn’t want to feel, and pulled back from the kiss in order to watch the pleasure etch itself across the operative’s face as she corkscrewed her fingers and prompted a sharp gasp. 

Miranda held her gaze as Jack slid her fingers in and out of her, the heat from the tub not at all to blame for the rosy hue that had flushed its way across her cheeks and down her chest, tightening her nipples and making a fierce fire erupt in the pit of her abdomen. She touched her face then, allowing her thumb to slide down Jack’s bottom lip as she ground against her hand and panted out her name, her head beginning to grow foggy as she was brought closer to the edge.

When she finally came it was with a violent shudder, the orgasm wracking her entire body as she allowed her eyelashes to flutter closed and her head to fall back. Jack kept her hold on her so as to not allow her to fall backwards into the water, and once Miranda got her bearings she straightened her spine and looked down at her, her chest still rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath and figure out what the hell they had just done, and what any of it even meant.

But as they stared at one another, Miranda realized that no, she wasn’t ready for this to be over with so quickly, and so before Jack could say a word she had kissed her again, climbing off of her just enough so she could nudge the other woman’s legs apart with her knee. And as her hand found its place between Jack’s thighs, feeling the former convict gasp hard against her lips as she reached for her in wanton desperation, Miranda decided that, fuck it, they could figure out what all this meant tomorrow.

Because tonight? Tonight Jack was _hers._

**TBC…**


	12. XII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, _so_ sorry for the delay on this chapter. My hard drive died and replacing it and recovering all my data apparently had to take eight million years, lol. But it’s fixed now, and I have all my fic again, so yay!

**XII.**

The two women eventually made it into the bed in the adjoining room, leaving their soaked clothing on the floor of the bathroom as they fell into one another, touching and grasping and kissing and fucking until exhaustion overtook them and they finally fell asleep; Miranda spread out unceremoniously against the sheets with Jack resting completely on top of her. They both were aware that it was likely that anyone who had wandered upstairs during that time had heard them, but in that moment, neither of them could find it within themselves to care; it had just been so long since they had been together that, at the time, nothing else really mattered but each other.

When Miranda awoke the next morning, she opened her eyes to find Jack lying on her side next to her, looking at her like she didn’t really know what to make of her. 

“Morning,” Miranda whispered, trying to fight off the terrible sense of anxiety that was forming in the pit of her stomach now that they weren’t stuck in a haze of lust and uncontrollable longing for one another. It was hard though, as Miranda truly had no idea where they stood anymore; she had no idea if last night was only meant to act as some sort of closure between them, or if it was the possible beginning of forgiveness. 

“…Hey.” Jack’s voice was hoarse, rough and scratchy, and Miranda had to purse her lips at how incredibly sexy she found it. Jack’s hair was out of her ponytail, falling down the right side of her face as it covered part of her eyes. Miranda hesitantly reached out to brush it out of her face, and they looked at each other for a long moment before Jack finally exhaled a long breath, shook her head, and rolled on her back to look away from her.

Miranda’s heart sank in her chest, knowing rejection when she saw it.

“Jack, it’s—it’s fine; you don’t have to say—” Miranda tried as she made to sit up, not trusting herself to be near the other woman and keep control over her emotions, but Jack immediately grabbed her arm and pulled her back down to the bed, noticing the quiver in her voice.

“Jesus fucking—I will literally _pay_ you if you don’t cry right now, because every time you fucking do, it makes me—” Jack exhaled a frustrated breath, pushing her hair back that had fallen in front of her eyes again as Miranda looked at her, biting the inside of her cheek in order to comply with the other woman’s request. “Can we please just stop fucking crying like a pair of pansy ass girls? _Please._ ”

Miranda probably would have been offended by that, if not for Jack’s use of the plural in her request; which, thankfully, made her feel a little better since she obviously wasn’t the only one that had become this pathetic, useless downward spiral of emotions. They really shouldn’t break up; it clearly wasn’t doing any favors for either of the images they tried to project to the world. In the end though, perhaps Miranda deserved this kind of emotional turmoil, as her inability to consider her options was the entire reason they had separated in the first place. And now, the only way to move forward was with Jack’s say so, as she was certain by now that the other woman knew where she stood, but the problem was, it didn’t seem like Jack was so eager to pick things up where they left off. 

“Look, I get that you think I don’t want… I don’t know, all of this back again, but that’s not fucking it, alright?” Jack tried to explain and, like always, sounded incredibly frustrated that she even had to do. Perhaps they should both look into some technology to read each other’s minds, because vocalization was not exactly their strong suit; at least if they weren’t a drunken mess and pushing one another into hot tubs.

Releasing a long exhale of breath, Jack chose to stare at the ceiling instead of her as she revealed, “I just… don’t _trust_ you anymore, Miranda. You fucking—” But Jack apparently didn’t want to say that out loud, and instead just shook her head and sighed.

“I broke your heart,” Miranda breathed, reading between the lines as she lied on her side and looked at her. That realization made her feel terribly guilty, but what else had she been expecting? Of course she did; she broke her _own_ heart by choosing to walk away from her.

Jack turned her head to catch her gaze, her brow creasing as she instantly got defensive over her emotions with, “The fuck ever, okay? Not like you weren’t a goddamn wreck without me either, so if you make some kind of thing out of it I swear to God—”

“Jack,” Miranda stopped her, placing her hand gently on the woman’s wrist in order to garner her undivided attention. She knew how Jack got when it came to this sort of stuff, and usually she would be right there beside her trying to skate her way around saying anything of substance, but maybe Ori was right; maybe she needed to tell her how she really felt. “Being without you, it… it broke my heart too. And I know it was my own fault, but that didn’t mean that it hurt me any less.”

That at least seemed to make Jack reel in her defensiveness, and she noticeably deflated as she allowed herself to no longer be poised for some kind of emotional attack. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Jack groaned a little in frustration as she admitted, “I just don’t—I don’t know what the hell I want from you right now, alright? So can you just… I don’t know, give me space? Or whatever that pansy ass request people usually use is.”

Well, that was decidedly better than outright rejection, and so Miranda forced herself to find acceptance in that despite her deep-seeded disappointment, and nodded her compliance. In the end, if it had been the other way around, she probably would have asked for the same, and therefore she couldn’t really blame her. 

“Alright,” Miranda complied softly, nodding as she went to sit up, but Jack grabbed her and dragged her back down to the bed again. “Didn’t you _just_ say you wanted—?”

“Later, for fuck’s sake; can’t you see I’m trying to sleep right now?” Jack grumbled irritably, practically rolling Miranda on her side so she could spoon her from behind and rest her head in the crook of the other woman’s neck. There was a decidedly long pause for a moment then, before Jack accused in a grumpy mumble, “Fuck you. Stop smiling.”

Miranda’s smile only grew wider, lacing her fingers in Jack’s with the hand that rested on her hip, pulling it across her body to lie against her bare chest. Those words alone made everything suddenly seem so _normal_ between them, and even if it wasn’t going to stay this way, Miranda resolved to enjoy it nonetheless. Jack was warm against her back, her body fitting perfectly with hers, and as soft lips were placed gently on her shoulder, Miranda tightened her grip on the hand that was in hers and closed her eyes.

It was comforting, being in her arms again.

They were silent for a long while, just resting against one another until Jack finally spoke, the words tickling the back of Miranda’s neck. “Heard you killed your dad.”

Miranda’s eyes fluttered open, not really expecting that topic to come up but in a way, glad that it did, as she had wanted to tell her ever since it happened. “…I did,” she confirmed softly.

“Good,” Jack breathed against her skin, her thumb lightly dusking Miranda’s knuckle. “Bastard deserved it. Hope he fucking screamed.”

Miranda smiled at the memory, knowing she shouldn’t get pleasure from something like that, and yet enjoying it all the same; the man had made her life hell, after all. “Very much so,” Miranda told her, and she wondered if Jack could hear the smile in her voice, as she could feel the one that was etched across her shoulder at the news. “I pushed him through a window.”

“Ha! Bet his body made a sick crunch when he hit the ground.”

“It did,” Miranda confirmed, almost wistfully in fact. “I… rather enjoyed it.” She paused for a moment, then turned around in Jack’s arms to face her. Her gaze flickered across her face before finally resting on the other woman’s eyes as she admitted softly, “I wish you could have been there.” The corners of Jack’s lips twitched into a small smile, and she gently reached up to brush the hair out of Miranda’s eyes.

“Me too, Cheerleader.” There was a pause, and then Jack seemed to want to break the intimacy of the moment as she shrugged lightly and continued, “’Cause I mean, fuck, that was supposed to be my ticket to getting laid like fifteen times a day; now what the fuck am I gonna do?”

Miranda laughed softly, pushing at her shoulder. “Shut up.” Jack smiled at her, and Miranda returned the gesture until eventually, it faded from their lips and all that was left was for them to just look at one another, and wonder where this had left them.

They held each other’s gaze for a long time before Jack finally closed the distance between them, kissing Miranda softly on the mouth. The operative instinctively parted her lips, inviting the other woman in as Jack cupped her face and slid her tongue deep inside her mouth, eliciting a small whimper that got caught in the back of Miranda’s throat at the unexpected tenderness of it. But perhaps this was what they were now; their time apart, it seemed, had caused them to realize just how much the other person meant to them. What was that old quote? _Absence makes the heart grow fonder?_ Perhaps it did, because even Jack, who usually scoffed off tenderness with a sarcastic comment and roll of her eyes, was now gently kissing across her jaw, down her neck, and… _oh,_ now there was a hand between her thighs. 

Alright, perhaps this was still about sex more than anything else.

Miranda emitted a soft gasp, letting her forehead rest against Jack’s as she questioned breathlessly, “I thought you wanted—”

“Fuck space right now,” Jack told her, sliding her fingers through her folds as her tongue traced Miranda’s ear, rolling the operative on her back so she could get on top. She straddled her waist, the heat between her thighs scorching the base of Miranda’s abdomen. “Morning sex first. Until we get out of this bed, I don’t give a _shit_ about anything else.”

And then she was leaning down, taking one of Miranda’s supple breasts into her mouth as the older woman arched her back and tangled her fingers through Jack’s hair. Miranda threw her head to the side, her hips twitching in need as she felt Jack’s teeth scrape across one of her achingly hard nipples. But then something caught her eye on the bedside table, and suddenly panic was erupting so violently within Miranda’s chest that she forced herself to sit upright, the fast and unexpected movement causing her and Jack’s foreheads to smack together.

“Ow! Shit, what the fuck are you—” Jack tried to ask, her hand being pressed against her forehead from the blow. But Miranda wouldn’t let her finish that thought as she clutched the woman’s other wrist almost painfully in her hand and hissed out, “ _Jack._ ”

Her eyes fell on the picture of Liara on the bedside table, then the clothes in the closet across from the bed, and oh God, how had she not noticed where they were before this? She might have tunnel vision when it came to Jack sometimes, but she should have bloody noticed where they were long before _this._ “We’re in Shepard’s room; we’re in Shepard’s _bed._ ”

“ _What?_ ” Jack exclaimed, her eyes widening as she too, apparently, seemed to only _just_ now take the time to look around the room they were currently occupying. “Shit. Why the hell didn’t you say anything before now?!”

“I thought we were in one of the guest rooms; I don’t know, I was _drunk!_ ” Miranda exclaimed, practically scurrying out of the bed as though, somehow, the quicker she stopped invading her former Commander’s sleeping quarters, the less terrible this would all turn out to be. 

“Oh my god,” she breathed, watching Jack practically catapult herself off the bed as well, nearly tripping over herself as her legs got tangled in the sheets. _“She’s going to bloody kill us.”_

“Wait,” Jack interjected, pressing her palm against Miranda’s chest as she tried to both steady herself and get her attention. “Maybe she doesn’t even know; I mean, you’d think she’d bust in here and tell us to stop fucking in her bed if she knew, right?” She paused for a moment, trying to kick the sheet off that had gotten tangled around one her legs. “Fuck this fucking—!” But then she was released, however managed to stumble completely into Miranda’s body in the process, who had to help steady her to keep her upright. “Shit, sorry; fucking sheets are bullshit—anyway, she could just be passed out or something downstairs for all we know; so if we just sneak out, maybe she’ll never even know we were in here.”

“Don’t be moronic! You practically had me screaming your bloody name all last night, Jack; if Shepard didn’t hear us, then surely one of the many other people in this apartment _did_. You really think they’d keep quiet about that? We were in her bed, Jack. Her _bed;_ that’s so wildly disrespectful of her hospitality I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Alright, alright, calm down; shit,” Jack shushed her, trying to be the rational one in this situation even though she looked just as anxiety-ridden about this as Miranda. At the end of the day, neither women had many fears, but Commander Shepard? Oh, _she_ was one of them. Perhaps it was the whole mother hen complex the woman had, but right then, Miranda felt as though she had just gotten fucked in her parent’s bed, and wasn’t too keen on getting reprimanded for her disrespect. “Let’s just… let’s just get dressed and go downstairs; maybe no one even noticed. And if someone did, I don’t know, we can just say they fucking imagined it or something.”

“We were _drinking_ last night, Jack, not snorting red sand,” Miranda shot back, giving the other woman an exasperated look at her quote, unquote, ‘solution’. “No one will believe us if we told them they were imagining it; that’s absolutely ridiculous.”

“Fuck you, all I’m saying is that the last time anyone saw us, we fucking hated each other,” Jack tried to reason. But then she paused, reassessed that, and backtracked. “Okay, _I_ hated _you,_ but whatever; you get my point. Who the fuck’s gonna believe that we went from that to—I don’t know, whatever the hell this is supposed to be?”

Miranda shot her a disbelieving look. “Do you honestly think people aren’t aware of our dynamic by now? We served with over half of these people on the Normandy, Jack; all we did was fight and fuck all _over_ that bloody ship.”

“Well if you’ve got a better idea, princess, then let’s hear it, because I don’t know what to fucking tell you anymore,” Jack shot back, clearly exasperated by her ideas being shot down as she threw up her hands and scoffed irritably.

Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling a resigned sigh. “I don’t,” she admitted. “Have a better idea, that is.”

“So then we do this my way,” Jack told her, sounding far too pleased about winning this ridiculous debate as she headed towards the adjoining bathroom to grab their clothes off the floor. “We get dressed, go downstairs, and start lying our asses off. Fucking simple.”

Famous last words.

[x]

Commander Shepard’s fingers were steepled across her lips, this dangerous look in her eye as she stared down her two former subordinates. You could’ve heard a pin drop in the kitchen as all eyes were on Miranda and Jack who had, unfortunately, made it very obvious that something had happened as they stood before their former Commander in clothing that was very much not their own.

It was… it was bloody fucking embarrassing, to be perfectly honest, and yet when they had gone to redress themselves, their clothes were still wet from the night before, neither of them bothering to have wrung them out or hang them up. And not only that, but Miranda’s cat suit was ripped in a way that wouldn’t give much coverage to her breasts even if it was dry enough _to_ be put back on and so, lying about what they had done had gone completely out the window when they realized they would be having to do the walk of shame not only from out of Shepard’s bedroom, but in the woman’s clothing to boot. 

And now they stood silently before their former Commander, looking thoroughly ashamed of themselves as Shepard forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. And yet even still, when she finally spoke, the woman’s voice came out as anything _but_ calm. “In. My. _Bed?_ ” she asked dangerously.

“Commander—” Miranda tried, reverting to formality for the sake of this conversation, at least as a sign of respect, but Shepard just help up her hand to stop her words.

“No, no. Don’t speak.” Miranda immediately fell silent, Vega snorted into his cereal bowl, and Liara placed a comforting hand on Shepard’s forearm no doubt in order to try to calm her partner down a little before she did anything rash. Shepard glanced up at her before her eyes landed back on the two women in front of her. “First of all,” she began slowly. “The only reason you two weren’t forcefully dragged out of there by your hair last night was because of Liara who, for some asinine reason, believed it important that you were allowed to work out your differences for the sake of your headache inducing relationship. _Say thank you to her._ ”

It was, in no way, a request, and both women immediately mumbled, “…Thanks,” and “Thank you, Liara,” simultaneously. 

“Second of all, I expect not to see either of your faces again until you have stripped my bed, cleaned up my room, and washed the sheets,” Shepard continued, her voice still at a dangerous decibel as she stared the two of them down. Jack looked exasperated by the request, but thankfully stayed silent about it as Miranda nodded her understanding. “And third of all, why, for the love of fucking everything in this universe, are both of you wearing my _clothes?_ ”

“We… fell into your hot tub,” Miranda explained, albeit a little awkwardly as she shifted the weight between her feet. “Which we will also clean, by the way. I assure you, everything will be in pristine condition by the time we’re finished. But our clothes are still wet, so we… had to improvise.”

“…You fell into the hot tub,” Shepard repeated, her tone a complete deadpan, apparently not believing the simplicity of that story at all; and probably for good reason because honestly, nothing between she and Jack could ever be described as ‘simple’ in any sense of the word.

“We were fighting and Jack… pushed me,” Miranda admitted, although that was what finally got Jack to ignore Miranda’s earlier request of, ‘Please just let me handle this,’ and actually speak for herself.

“Hey, that was an accident!” she defended, pointing at Miranda. “And I totally jumped in and saved your ass from drowning, so it’s not like I didn’t fix it.”

“I wasn’t going to _drown,_ Jack—”

“Whatever. Don’t fucking downplay my heroic gesture, Cheerleader. I don’t have many of ‘em, alright?”

Shepard just stared at them, pursing her lips as she laced her fingers together in front of her mouth, then steepled them again as she took another deep breath. “You both… are _children._ ”

Liara kissed her girlfriend’s forehead and smirked. “It’s good practice,” she teased, to which Shepard rolled her eyes and Miranda and Jack looked thoroughly offended. Miranda chose to keep herself silent however, knowing that not speaking in this situation was the way to go, but Jack… well, Jack always had to open her mouth, didn’t she?

“Pretty fucking sure children aren’t doing what we’re doing, Shepard.”

Miranda shot her an exasperated look while Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose, and then suddenly Kasumi uncloaked next to the counter, casually leaning against it as she mentioned, “You know, if we actually manage to survive this war, we could make a killing if we set them up in a house filled with cameras. It’s like a soap opera… but with porn.”

“I’d pay for that,” Vega chimed in, mouth full of cereal.

Jack flipped both of them off while Miranda made sure to look properly scandalized, even though for some reason, the thought of her, Jack, and a _camera_ didn’t seem like the worst one in the world; at least if it was only them who saw the finished result. But then again, that might just end up being a private fantasy since, as of right now, Miranda wasn’t really sure where they stood. Jack had said she needed space, and while she was still indulging in their little moment this morning after she had said that, she did specifically say it was reserved until they got out of bed; and, well, they certainly weren’t in bed anymore. 

No, now they were down _here,_ dealing with _this._

“I would really appreciate if we all found another topic of discussion,” Miranda requested, wishing that her personal life didn’t seem to be some kind of constant entertainment for her former crewmates. It was bad enough that her and Jack seemed to be absolutely terrible at this, but having people around constantly watching to see if they were going to make it or if they would just crash and burn made things so much more uncomfortable. 

“And I would appreciate if some people didn’t take their lovers into _my_ bed,” Shepard countered. “But, alas, sometimes in life we don’t get what we want, Miranda.”

“Shepard, we’re _sorry._ We thought it was the guestroom—”

“I don’t—” Shepard held up her hand for her to stop. “I don’t care. Just go clean up my bedroom, my bathroom… whatever the hell else you managed to make a mess of.” A pause, and she met each of their gaze in turn before finishing. “ _Now._ ”

While Miranda hated being spoken to like a child, in the end, she knew Shepard had every right to be pissed off, and so she turned around without another word, grabbing Jack’s wrist to pull her along up the stairs behind her. They mostly picked up Shepard’s room in silence, as Miranda wasn’t exactly sure what to say to her anymore; the woman had specifically requested space, and she didn’t want to violate that. Especially now since, whatever moment they had found themselves in before all this, was most definitely over. Jack, apparently, didn’t really know what to say either, clearly still unsure of what she even wanted from the other woman, but the silence apparently ate at her much more than it did Miranda, as she was the one to finally break it.

“Apologize to me again.”

“What?” Miranda asked, turning towards the other woman in surprise, not having expected to even hear her voice after such a long silence, let alone get a request like _that._ Jack was standing on the other side of the room, having apparently abandoned her task of stripping the sheets off the bed as they lay in a ball at her feet, uncared for. She was staring at her, shifting the weight between her feet as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I wasn’t fucking—I wasn’t listening before,” Jack struggled to get out, looking a little uncomfortable about even broaching this topic. “And maybe I wanna listen now so just—just do it, okay?”

Miranda abandoned her task of cleaning so fast that whatever she was holding (did it matter? Not really, not in comparison to this) dropped to the floor as she immediately crossed the space between them. She wasn’t expecting this, but Miranda was immensely glad for it, as it showed that Jack was at least willing to hear her out in order to decide whether or not she wanted to give her another chance. That was… that was _huge,_ especially considering talking about emotional things made Jack uncomfortable; so for her to willingly broach this conversation…

Miranda really couldn’t afford to fuck it up.

“Jack,” she breathed, taking the woman’s hands into hers as she held her gaze. “I am so, _so_ sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for making a huge decision like that without even talking to you first, for not even bothering to _try_ to find an alternate way to do things before I walked away. I know it’s not an excuse but at the time I was—I was drunk, and I guess felt like I knew what you needed better than you did, and was just trying to make the right decision. I have… control issues, which is why I’m so disastrous in relationships because they’re supposed to be about equality and partnership and all those other bloody things that I don’t really know how to do, but I can—I can work on that. I don’t want to _control_ your life, Jack, I just… I just want to be _in_ it; and I’m—I’m sorry, that I’ve done a terrible job of showing you that so far. I just wanted what was best for you, and I went about that in what turned out to be a really awful way.”

Jack swallowed after Miranda was finished, and said nothing for a long time as she looked down at their clasped hands. Her brow creased, and she bit the inside of her cheek as she shifted the weight between her feet once more, apparently debating on whatever it was that she wanted to say. But finally she spoke in that impatient, irritated tone she always had whenever she was trying to blow through emotional things, and revealed, “You fucked me up, you know? And I didn’t—didn’t even think I cared that much; you were fun to fuck, had nice tits, made me feel less like an angry piece of shit or whatever I guess, but then you just—you just fucking _leave_ and suddenly I’m some stupid girl who can’t hold their goddamn shit together; fucking—fucking _crying_ over you like you mattered more than your cunt and, shit, _she saw me doing it._ Fucking Shepard saw me being some pansy ass bitch over you and that just— I don’t fucking _like…_ ”

“I know,” Miranda acknowledged softly, realizing that must have been embarrassing for her. “I’m sorry; to be quite honest, I hadn’t expected any of this either… to get so attached to you. I don’t do well with attachments, although I suppose you don’t either, which is why we’re such a mess. And if it… if it makes you feel any better, Shepard made me cry in the middle of the Citadel because of what I did to you. It was… fairly humiliating.”

“ _Good,_ ” Jack shot back, but her voice didn’t hold any venom in it; it just sounded rather broken and emotional, and frustrated because of it all. “I hope everyone stared at you and you felt like a piece of shit.”

“…I did.”

Jack pursed her lips and was silent for a moment, subconsciously caressing Miranda’s pinky finger in her right hand for a moment before suddenly she was off of her, taking a step back and running a frustrated hand over the shaved part of her scalp. “Okay, I’m gonna—I’m gonna fucking say something now, alright? And I don’t want you to take it like you were right because you weren’t; what you did was _fucked_ and I’m probably gonna be pissed about that for a while, but—but I don’t… I don’t hate being a teacher; like it wasn’t the worst fucking thing to ever happen to me, okay?”

Miranda smiled softly at her. “Yeah?” she encouraged gently, wanting Jack to elaborate. She had already heard as much from Shepard, but it was nice to hear it from Jack; it at least made her feel a little better, that the decision she had made wasn’t as terrible as it could have been. But again, perhaps there could have been a way for Jack to take the job and for them to have come to a mutual, peaceful dissolution of their relationship, or to at least put what they had on _hold_ for a little while, instead of what had actually happened.

“Yeah, it’s like—I don’t know, I’m actually kinda good at? Never thought I’d be good at anything other than killing, so it’s weird, but that cool kinda weird. And the kids are fucking awesome; I mean, they can be little shits sometimes yeah, but good ones, you know? But like… that still doesn’t fucking mean that you should have—”

“I know,” Miranda interrupted softly, understanding what Jack was saying. Chewing on her bottom lip slightly, the operative gave her a small smile before telling her honestly, “I’m glad you’re happy there, Jack. That’s all I wanted for you; for you to be happy.”

Jack rolled her eyes at the sentiment, crossing her arms over her chest as she responded irritably, “Could’ve been fucking happy with you too, you stupid asshole; but you had to go and fuck off instead.”

“Jack, I’m really—”

“Yeah, I know,” Jack cut off, averting her gaze. “I know you’re sorry and shit; don’t gotta say it twelve hundred times.” She was silent for a moment, biting the inside of her cheek as she thought; and Miranda just stood there patiently, waiting for her to speak again. Finally Jack brought her gaze back to her and told her, “I dunno what to do. You fuck my head all up, Cheerleader; like worse than anyone else ever has. And maybe part of me wants you to fuck it up more, but—but you could just fuck off again, and then—”

“I won’t,” Miranda promised, taking a step towards her. “Jack, I—I won’t, I promise.”

“I don’t believe you,” Jack told her, and Miranda felt her stomach sink in her gut. “Like that’s the fucking thing, okay? I want to believe you, but I just—I fucking can’t; not right now. Shit’s too… it’s too fresh and it’s… I mean, it’s not like you scare me or anything, ‘cause you fucking don’t and screw you if you ever think you do, but there’s like… I don’t know, this line, right? And I just kinda want you to stay on one fucking side of it right now while I figure out my shit, because you mess my head up too bad and I can’t think straight when I’m around you.”

Miranda pursed her lips, trying not to feel disappointed. Jack had every right to feel wary of her, and if the positions were reversed, she would as well. Still, Jack didn’t hate her; if anything, she had made it obvious that she still _had_ feelings for her, so at least this wasn’t outright rejection. It was just… it was just space, and time; and if that’s all that Jack needed, then Miranda would give it to her. With the war going on, they would’ve been forced into separation once again anyway, and maybe some time apart to think about what they wanted from one another once the threat from the Reapers was finally neutralized would be good for them. The Crucible would be finished soon, and it wouldn’t be long now; either they were going to succeed, or they were all going to die. There wasn’t much of an in between.

“Take all the time you need,” Miranda told her softly, meeting the other woman’s gaze. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jack side-glanced her at that promise. “Why?” she challenged, needing to know. “Like I don’t even get why you like me so much; I mean the other way around makes sense ‘cause it’s like—you’re fucking perfect or whatever, so of course—”

“Please don’t—please don’t call me that,” Miranda requested, her throat tightening in anxiety. She knew that was what she was supposed to be, but she just—she _wasn’t,_ and she hated that expectation of her more than anything, because it did nothing but made her feel like an absolute failure.

“Shit, no, I—I didn’t mean like…” Jack tried, recognizing Miranda’s distress over the word and trying to backtrack around it. “I just meant for me, I guess, or—you know, just not the general sense of the word, ‘cause obviously someone perfect wouldn’t have fucked up our shit this goddamn badly, but—”

That was even _worse,_ and Miranda’s expression instantly crumbled as she turned away from her, not wanting the other woman to see how distressed this was making her. In the end though, Jack wasn’t stupid, and could see that this was upsetting her. “Wait, no!” Jack tried, grabbing Miranda’s arm to turn her back around. “That was fucking stupid, I didn’t mean—shit, _shit._ Miranda, fuck, come on; look at me.”

Miranda complied with her request, but that terrible sense of self-loathing was still spreading outwards from the pit of her chest like a disease. She used to wear that word like her armor, because if she controlled it, then no one could hurt her with it, but with Jack, somehow all of her armor, all of her defenses ended up falling away, and she just—she didn’t want Jack to see her that way; anyone else could, but not… not her. She didn’t want to give the woman unrealistic expectations of her and then inevitably become disappointed; Miranda couldn’t bear to see that look in the woman’s eyes when she realized that she wasn’t everything she was supposed to be.

“I just… I mean _for_ me, okay?” Jack tried, clasping her hand. “For, not to; I don’t see you as perfect ‘cause, shit, _no one’s_ perfect; and thinking otherwise is just fucking stupid, you know? Like I know that you’re just as fucked as I am and I like that, alright? So maybe your fucked-upness fits my fucked-upness like… perfectly, or whatever; that’s all I meant, even though that’s like the sappiest shit ever.”

Miranda shot her a disbelieving look. “If you had meant it in that way, then you wouldn’t have asked me why I liked you, Jack,” she countered softly, calling her out because she knew better; she knew Jack was just trying to give her the answer she thought would upset her the least. “Fitting one another ‘perfectly’; that’s a two-way street.”

Jack exhaled a hard breath, shifting the weight between her feet. “Alright, fuck, so maybe I meant that I do see you as perfect, but don’t—don’t fucking get all upset over it, okay? ‘Cause perfect to me doesn’t mean flawless; there’s a difference, and I… I don’t know, like your flaws, alright? Fuck. This sucks, I suck at this; this is so stupid.”

She tried to pull away then, but Miranda tightened the grip on her hand and pulled her back until they were nearly pressed up against one another. Jack had a point, about perfect and flawless not having to be synonymous, and that—it made her feel less animosity towards the word; at least when Jack said it, because that meant she didn’t have ridiculously high expectations of her. It was… it was comforting, to say the least; which was surprising, as Miranda never really thought she’d find any sort of comfort with that word, but perhaps words can mean different things for different people.

“You’re much better at it than you think,” she whispered, her gaze resting on Jack’s lips for a moment before flickering up to meet her eyes. “And that’s what I like about you; you’re such a mess and you have no idea what you’re doing and yet even still, in the end you still manage to do things rather… perfectly.” She smirked slightly at the word, before letting her expression fall into something a little more intimate as she brushed a strand of hair out of the other woman’s eyes. 

“Your chaos comforts me, Jack,” Miranda admitted softly. “Everything in my life has always been planned out to the last meticulous detail; the number of languages I needed to learn by the time I was thirteen, what schools I would attend and what friends I would make, even what size my bloody tits would be… they were all thought of and organized long before I was even born. I’ve always known schedules and order, and even took that thinking with me when I finally left my father, because it was all I had ever known. And I didn’t… I didn’t realize how constricting it was, until suddenly you were a fixture in my life, and I didn’t—I had never planned for you, Jack. I didn’t know how. And quite honestly, I’m glad I didn’t, because being with you… not knowing what was happening, or how I should be feeling, or if it would even work out, it was… it was absolutely fucking _terrifying._ But I suppose the prospect of freedom would be kind of terrifying, wouldn’t it, when you’ve always lived your life in chains?”

“You were my freedom, Jack,” Miranda finished, the words barely above a whisper as she looked into the other woman’s eyes. “From a life that, at the time, I didn’t even realize was suffocating me. And _that…_ that is why I like you. Does that answer your question?”

Silence. 

It was deafening, and Miranda felt herself hold her breath at the conflicting wave of emotions that passed over Jack’s face at her words. She hadn’t even meant to say all that, but once she started she couldn’t stop, and Ori’s encouragement in the back of her mind to just tell Jack how she really felt pushed her onwards to the point of… what, this? What _was_ this? Miranda didn’t know; she had no idea if she had just said every single right thing in the world, or said every single wrong one and now had managed to scare the hell out of the other woman.

“Fuck,” Jack breathed after a moment’s silence, the air being pushed out of her lungs something that she herself had been holding for a long while. “ _Fuck._ ”

Miranda’s anxiety that she had, once again, made the wrong decision was beginning to mount in the pit of her chest. “Jack, I…” she began, just trying to maybe water it down so it all didn’t seem so intense, or just do _something_ so Jack would stop looking at her like she didn’t even know if she was real right now, but the other woman wouldn’t let her get another word out after that.

Suddenly her face was being cupped in Jack’s hands, and Miranda’s back collided heavily against the wall as the former convict pressed herself along the length of her body and kissed her like it was her last night on this earth. The raw intensity behind it made fire race underneath Miranda’s skin, burning through her veins and lighting a fire inside of the pit of her chest. She whimpered softly against her lips, grasping onto any part of Jack that she could reach as she allowed the anxiety she was feeling to dissipate, the feeling becoming replaced by a much better, much _stronger_ emotion that Miranda realized she had never truly felt before now. 

When they finally broke they were breathing heavily, uneven bursts of air painting patterns on one another’s lips, and Jack allowed her gaze to leave her lips to meet Miranda’s eyes before she told her breathlessly, “I really wanna fuck you for that.”

Miranda laughed softly, reaching up to gently caress Jack’s face with both of her palms. “We’re still in Shepard’s room,” she reminded her, but leaned off the wall so she could keep her hips in contact with the other woman’s, their legs all tangled together. 

“Fuck Shepard.”

Miranda smirked, but gently placed her hand on the other woman’s shoulder as she went in for another kiss. “Jack,” she breathed, suddenly serious. “I want to be with you; like in that real kind of way where we actually decide to be in a relationship and don’t just fall into one and then become freaked out because we have no idea how to define it. So I don’t want you to just sleep with me because I said a lot of pretty words to you; I want this… I want this to be something you _want,_ and I know that you’re still unsure of that right now. You said yourself that you don’t trust me, and I think… I think that if we want to make this work, that’s something we should address first. I don’t want to screw this up a second time.”

Jack exhaled a long breath at that, apparently not expecting Miranda to tell her no when she propositioned sex, but understanding all the same why she did as she nodded her compliance. “Fuck—okay. Yeah, maybe we should just…” But she looked at her again, and suddenly she was leaning in and capturing Miranda’s lips with her own for another long, lingering kiss.

“Jack…” Miranda breathed as they broke, but Jack just shook her head in response.

“No, I know. But… we got shit to do, you know? After this. The war and crap and I just…” She looked at her then, a myriad of emotions playing across her face as she finally told her, her voice a little strained, “Don’t—just don’t fucking die on me, okay?”

Miranda’s heart clenched in her chest at those words, and she couldn’t stop herself from leaning in and allowing Jack one last kiss, before she breathed out the response that brought them back to the start of it all, hoping that it wouldn’t become their end.

“You either.”

**TBC…**


	13. XIII

**XIII.**

London was awash with blood and destruction in the final climax of the Reapers defeat. A brilliant red lit up the sky as the machines fell to Earth, crushing anything in their path as those around Miranda screamed, cheered, cried, and prayed to their Gods. The husks were still coming in waves, and Miranda shouted, “Fall back!” to her troops as she tried to get them out of the line of fire, waiting for Shepard’s miracle to meet the ground and take out the last of the Collectors. When it did it was like a domino effect; everything falling around her as Miranda ducked, covered her head with her arms, and allowed the wave to pass over them, praying that it wouldn’t kill them all as well.

With the crushing defeat of Cerberus not days prior, Miranda had ended up on the front lines of the war on Earth, trying to help the Alliance in any way she could. Of course she had ulterior motives in coming to this planet, at least where Jack was concerned; it had been over a month since she had last seen the other woman, and although they spoke often through email, Miranda ached to see her at least one last time before the end. She hadn’t had the chance though, duty coming first as the Crucible was finally finished, and it was either now or never. And now, as the Reapers and Collectors fell around them, dying instantly in wake of the red wave that washed across the land, the war was won and Miranda only had one thought on her mind.

_Jack._

It took over an hour before Miranda could finally tear herself away from duty and break away from her squad, inquire as to where exactly Jack and her students had been stationed, and find her in the rubble of what once was a beautiful and thriving planet. She had feared the worst when an Alliance officer told her that they were unable to get into contact with Jack’s squad since the fall of the Reapers, but once Miranda finally found her, it was clear why she had yet to report in. 

Jack was on her knees, hunched over the bodies of some of her students as she allowed the devastating effects of the war to finally sink in. Her anguish and sorrow had crippled her, and her cries came out as heart-wrenching screams as she poured all of her devastation into the world around her, the sound of it ripping Miranda to shreds and nearly making her collapse. She had seen Jack cry before, but this was beyond that; it was as though something had broken inside of her, and the woman could barely move, barely see, barely breathe. Miranda was certain she had never seen so much regret, so much agony and despair in one person, and tears begun to run down her cheeks in lines as she forced herself past the shock of it, and moved towards the woman on unsteady legs. 

“Ma’am, I wouldn’t,” one soldier advised her, placing a hand on Miranda’s arm to stop her in her tracks. “We’ve tried to get her to leave the bodies so they can be collected, but she’s attacked anyone who has come close.”

“I can handle her,” Miranda told him sharply, wrenching her arm out of his grip. Her voice was raw, all the screaming she had done on the battlefield having caused her to go hoarse, but her tone still held enough authority that the soldier backed off and allowed her to proceed.

Trying to choke back her tears, Miranda began to slowly approach her. “Jack…!” she called out, but either Jack didn’t recognize her voice or didn’t care, because suddenly a loud scream ripped from the other woman’s lungs as she sent a shockwave towards her without even turning around. Miranda’s barrier went up instinctively to block it, and it only managed to push her back a few steps before she steadied herself.

“I said _fuck off!_ Just get the fuck away from me! You’re not taking them, you’re not—!” But the rest of her words were choked in tears, and as she struggled to take her next inhale of breath, Miranda tried approaching her again. Jack seemed to hear her footsteps though, or perhaps just saw her shadow approaching her, because she screamed more obscenities at her before sending out another shockwave that Miranda instantly blocked, this time with a little more difficulty than the last as it was stronger, angrier, less controlled as it emitted a raw, untamable power.

“Jack, _Jack!_ ” Miranda screamed, desperation in her tone as she watched the other woman practically crumple over the body of a teenage boy, holding onto his blood-soaked clothing as she sobbed. “Jack, it’s me; it’s… it’s me; _Jack!_ ” Miranda tried as she finally got within a couple yards of her, and Jack must have either recognized her this time, or was tired of fighting as she croaked out Miranda’s name in despair and struggled to turn around.

Miranda collapsed to her knees the moment she had reached Jack’s side, and the younger woman clung to her as she sobbed into her neck, gasping out her regret and self-blame as she repeated over and over, “Miranda, I—I fucked up. I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up…”

Miranda felt hot tears fall down her cheeks as she tried to hush her, to calm her, to just get Jack to breathe. Cradling her head in her hand, Miranda placed her lips against the woman’s forehead as she breathed, “Shhh… no you didn’t; of course you didn’t. It’s not your fault, Jack. I promise you, none of this is your fault…”

But Jack wouldn’t listen; she was stuck on repeat, blaming herself and sobbing into Miranda’s shoulder as she choked on the force of her own tears. She tried to get Jack to get up, to leave her students so their bodies could be collected, but Jack refused to leave, began pounding on Miranda’s shoulders with her fists as she told her over and over that she couldn’t leave; that she was supposed to protect them. She was past the point of devastation, something having broken inside of her that Miranda didn’t know how to fix, and so with a heavy heart Miranda reached into her holster, one of the side pockets containing emergency medical supplies like medi-gel and sedatives for those soldiers that needed to be moved out of the line of fire, but were too injured to do so on their own, and sunk the needle of one of the syringes into Jack’s neck. 

The woman collapsed against her then, and Miranda had to choke back a sob as she gathered Jack into her arms and struggled to stand. “Take them,” she ordered one of the soldiers, her voice strained and broken. “I’ve got her. Are there any—where are her surviving students?” The soldier nodded his head towards two, only _two_ teenagers that were huddled together in the far off corner of the encampment, and Miranda quietly thanked the man before approaching them.

“Ma’am,” the girl acknowledged with a shaky tone, saluting Miranda as she approached before dropping the formality and asking in a worried tone. “Is she—is Jack okay?” Tear tracks stained her cheeks and she was shaking, but the boy beside her looked no better. 

“What did you do to her?” he demanded, apparently having seen Miranda inject her with something. He straightened his spine as he looked at her, and his protective nature over his teacher filled Miranda with an emotion she wasn’t sure what to name. It ached, but not terribly so. He, as well, had a tremor that could not go ignored, and Miranda silently cursed Shepard for encouraging these kids to be on the front lines; they were too young, and this would no doubt be traumatizing for them. It was traumatizing for _Jack._

“I gave her a mild sedative,” she explained, ignoring the pain in her arms as she held Jack’s limp body close to her chest. “She’ll wake up in an hour or two. Don’t worry; she won’t be left alone. I plan to… I’ll look after her.”

“Who are you?” the girl asked, leaning into her friend. “She—Jack, she knew you, didn’t she?”

Miranda swallowed the painful lump in her throat, trying to keep her own tears at bay; at least while she talked to the kids. They didn’t need to see anyone else break down today. Nodding in answer, Miranda’s voice was soft as she looked down at the woman in her arms. “I’m her…” But she paused, not knowing what they really were to each other anymore, and so Miranda just shook her head as she reevaluated that, and gave the most accurate answer she could. “I’m _hers._ ”

The two teens seemed to understand without any further elaboration, and Miranda cleared her throat as she looked back up at them. “Come on,” she encouraged. “Let’s get you two back to base camp; you’ll have a chance to contact your families from there.”

“With all due respect, Ma’am,” the boy responded, standing up a little straighter. “We’d like to stay and help. Those were our—those were our friends, and we’d like to see them taken care of first.”

The girl nodded in agreement as she wrung her hands tightly in front of her, and Miranda pursed her lips before acknowledging their decision with an, “I understand.” It was brave of them, to stay, as she couldn’t imagine how hard this must be on them, and she was sure if Jack had been conscious and of the right mind right now, she would have been proud of them for it. And so with one last tightlipped smile, Miranda readjusted her hold on the woman in her arms, and headed towards the base camp to take care of _her_ priority.

[x]

It was over an hour by the time Jack woke up, and when she did she groaned, her hand coming to rest on her forehead as she shifted in Miranda’s lap. “The hell happened…?” she asked groggily, still very much out of it. Miranda waited a moment until she spoke, just allowing Jack to get her bearings on reality as she ran her fingers gently through the other woman’s hair.

Jack tried to move to sit up then, but Miranda placed her hand gently on the teacher’s shoulder and hushed her, “Shh… don’t try to move just yet; I gave you a mild sedative to help with your…” Miranda paused, her lips pursing in guilt. “Your hysteria.” That was such an awful word to use, but in the end it was accurate, and so Miranda didn’t know how to explain it any other way. “If you don’t lie still, it could make you sick.”

“My…? The _fuck_ are you—?” Jack tried, of course not listening to a word she said as she sat up much too quickly, and then noticeably blanched. Miranda rushed to pull the waste bin over just as Jack gagged, leaned over the cot, and emptied the contents of her stomach. Miranda winced at the sound of it, and held back the few strands of hair that had fallen from Jack’s ponytail. 

“One day you’ll learn to listen to me,” Miranda said, softly teasing her even though her heart wasn’t in it; it just ached… everything about this just made Miranda _ache,_ and she feared it wasn’t too long off now until Jack remembered what exactly had happened out on the battlefield, and would break all over again. And it was terrible; it was completely fucking _awful_ because in the end, Miranda didn’t know how to make it better. How do you make the countless deaths of children seem _okay?_ It wasn’t okay; it was so very far from it.

And then Jack was breathing heavily as she leaned over the waste bin, her hands gripping the sides so tightly that her knuckles flashed white, and Miranda’s heart broke all over again as she distinctly heard the woman choke back a sob. Gathering her up in her arms and encouraging Jack to lean back against her, she cradled her head to her chest as she told her, “Breathe. Just try to breathe…”

Jack didn’t say anything. She just leaned against her and cried until her body seemed to exhaust all of the energy she had inside of her, and she just leaned against Miranda silently, mascara running down her cheeks in lines. Miranda’s heart broke for her and she cradled her against her chest, gently stroking her hair as she waited for Jack to be ready to speak to her. It took a while, but finally Jack opened her mouth, her voice coming out soft and hoarse. 

“Do you know how many people I’ve killed?”

Miranda pursed her lips. “No,” she answered, her voice just as soft.

“Hundreds,” Jack responded, the words she was uttering sounding detached and broken as she stared at the opposite side of the tent. “And I don’t give a fuck; I don’t—don’t care, you know? But this… this I care about; this—it fucks me up. I fucked up, Miranda…”

“ _No,_ ” Miranda responded strongly, tightening her hold on the woman in her arms. “Jack, don’t you—don’t you _dare_ blame yourself for this. You didn’t kill those kids.”

“Fucking led ‘em out here, didn’t I?” Jack countered, but her voice held no note of anger or sadness; it was as though her mind was far away from this place as she continued to stare at the opposite side of the tent, watching the flaps of it move in the gentle breeze. “They weren’t ready, and I knew it, but I… I listened to Shepard anyway. Saw the goddamn pride on their faces when she said they were ready and I couldn’t—that look, their sense of purpose and shit; I didn’t want to be the reason that was taken from them.”

“’Cause fucking Shepard, you know?” Jack continued, her voice suddenly breaking in her throat as another tear slipped down her cheek. “She screwed with my head; gave me that whole purpose and pride bullshit too and I fucking—I fucking _fell for it._ And now… now look what the hell I did. I wasn’t fucking ready for this, just like they weren’t. I’m not a goddamn leader, I’m just—I’m a fucking mess, Miranda. I’m a fucking _mess_ and I should have never—I should have remembered what I was, ‘cause people don’t fucking change.”

“You’re wrong,” Miranda told her, the strength in her voice wavering in wake of her own sorrow. “Jack, this was… this was a _war,_ and I know—God, I know that this will in no way make it better, but sometimes people die. Your students, they weren’t the only ones; thousands of people died today, and the only ones at fault for that are the Reapers. Those kids were brave to stand up in the face of such a threat, and they died as heroes; a sacrifice of that magnitude isn’t so easily forgotten, and at their funerals they will be honored for it.”

“Yeah, fucking great—what the hell good does honor do when they’re _dead,_ Miranda? Their families can be given all the goddamn medals in the world for their service, and it still won’t change a thing because their kid, their sister, brother, fucking friend, whatever… is _gone._ It’s bullshit, it’s fucking needless goddamn bullshit and I hate—“ Jack’s voice cracked then, and she turned her face away. “I _hate_ myself for encouraging it, for thinking it was a good idea when anything I’ve ever done has always been a steaming pile of shit.”

“Jack—Jack, look at me,” Miranda encouraged, and after a bit of a struggle Jack finally exhaled a sharp breath and turned her eyes towards her. “Encouraging those kids to believe in themselves, to find their strength and pride and bravery, isn’t shit. Something like that will _never_ be shit, do you understand me? And you didn’t lose everyone; the two that were left, I gave them the option to contact their families, to get out of this place and out of this war, and you know what they said to me? They told me no. They wanted to stay and help, despite all the trauma that they had been through. That was… that was very admirable of them, and very courageous, and I very much doubt they would have done that if it wasn’t for you. You made them into the strong people that they are now, and you should be proud of that.”

Jack didn’t say anything for a long time, but she did scoff softly in order to let Miranda know that she was dismissing the sentiment. She wasn’t surprised though; Miranda doubted anyway that in this moment, Jack would be able to claw her way out of pessimism and self-hatred. It was all too fresh. She didn’t move out of her arms though, still leaning all of her weight against Miranda’s chest as she allowed the woman to hold her, to give her comfort, even though there would never be enough of it in the world to make something like this feel better.

“Your fault, you know,” she said finally, her voice scratchy and soft. Miranda knitted her eyebrows at that, and Jack continued, “Never gave a damn about anything in my life till you. You fucking—you broke something inside me, Cheerleader; some kind of dam that kept all these feelings and actual human being shit locked up inside of me, and now I… now I care. Now I feel. And right now? I kinda fucking hate you for it. Attachments fuck people up, because you stupidly expect to have them forever and then when you _don’t,_ everything’s just… shit. Everything is shit.”

Miranda pursed her lips sadly, but said nothing. She just placed a gentle kiss on Jack’s forehead, watching the other woman exhale a soft sigh. She didn’t know what to say to her, because she was right in a way, wasn’t she? Attachments to people were emotionally damaging and it _was_ foolish to even have them in the first place, and yet… and yet sometimes, it seems as though you don’t really have a choice in the matter. That had certainly been true in their relationship, as neither of them were looking for or even wanted to become attached to one another in this way, but it still happened regardless. And with Jack and those kids… it seemed it had happened once again; another thing that Jack hadn’t wanted or expected and yet embraced all the same. Miranda wished she could tell her that it was a good thing, because she herself had found that her attachment to certain people wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but right at that moment, she knew Jack would never believe her, because after what had happened today, it certainly didn’t seem like a it at all.

“You hear anything from Shepard?” Jack asked after a long moment’s silence, apparently intent on not continuing their discussion. Miranda couldn’t blame her; there was only so much emotional exhaustion one person could take. She cleared her throat then, and shook her head.

“No,” she admitted, hoping she didn’t sound as worried as she was by that. Jack had enough to deal with right now. “But I’m sure she’s—she’ll be fine, you know? It’s Shepard; that woman has an uncanny ability to escape death.”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed softly, but she didn’t sound too sure of that herself either. Many people died today, and the final, critical moments before the Reapers’ defeat weren’t exactly known to them. So many things could have gone wrong, but Miranda refused to entertain the idea right then; there was no use worrying until she got more information. “What about the others?”

“I haven’t…” Miranda began, then cut herself off with a soft sigh. “All I could think about, all I could _care_ about after the Reapers fell was… you. I haven’t left your side and I don’t—I’m so out of touch with what’s going on, and I shouldn’t be. I left my squad to my XO and I’m sure there are many officers in the Alliance who are furious with me, as running off like that was completely unprofessional, but I couldn’t—I couldn’t stay there, not without knowing if you were alright. You… _you_ were my priority, Jack; I didn’t know how to think of anything else in that moment.” 

Jack turned to face her fully then, and their eyes met just briefly before Miranda broke the contact. Perhaps she was being too forward with her feelings, even though she knew Jack felt the same way about her. Even still though, they were not together, and they still had a few things to work through before they could get to that point in their lives again. Dumping her feelings on Jack when she was emotionally vulnerable because of what happened on the battlefield today didn’t sit right with her, and so she quickly steered the conversation away from emotional matters as she released the woman in her arms and shifted to the edge of the cot.

“I should… I need to get back soon though,” Miranda continued, rising to stand as she pushed the hair out of her eyes, “and then I’ll inquire about everyone and let you know as soon as I hear anything.”

“—Miranda,” Jack implored, quickly snatching the operative’s wrist in her hand before she could get too far from her. Miranda swallowed as she turned towards her, and their eyes met only briefly before Jack tugged on her hand, the abrupt movement causing Miranda to practically fall onto her lap as Jack captured her lips with her own. 

Miranda’s eyes fluttered shut of their own accord as she kissed Jack in kind; it was soft, gentle, and not at all what she had been expecting. It was also brief, and when they broke, Jack caught her gaze once more as she breathed, “I’m glad you’re not dead, Cheerleader.” Miranda gently bit her lower lip then, and Jack’s gaze flickered to her mouth for a moment as she finished, “And I’m… I’m kinda glad you fucked off on the Alliance.” 

“Well I’m glad someone is, because I’m sure I’m going to get an earful about it,” Miranda responded, chuckling briefly before she bit the inside of her cheek, caught Jack’s gaze again, and decided to whisper out her own moment of truth. “I’m glad you’re not dead too. I’ve been… terribly concerned about your wellbeing since the last time I saw you, if I’m to be honest.”

“Yeah, well…” Jack began, suddenly looking a little awkward as she broke eye contact. “I’m—I’m fine.”

“…Are you?” Miranda countered softly, trying to catch her gaze again that Jack wouldn’t allot her. What had happened… it had broken her, and Miranda couldn’t help but be concerned about the woman’s wellbeing. She knew she had other responsibilities, but leaving Jack right now, if she wasn’t able to deal with the aftermath of this battle on her own, wasn’t something she wanted to do. But Jack just exhaled a long breath as she gently guided Miranda off her lap and stood from the cot, running her hand over the top of her head.

“Yeah, it’s—I gotta check on my kids; they’re probably more fucked up about this than I am. Shit screwed me up pretty bad, but I’ll live; so don’t—don’t fucking think you need to coddle me or nothing, alright? ‘Cause I’m fine. I’m…” Jack hesitated for a moment, before grasping onto the back of her neck as she turned away from her, her voice catching in her throat for a moment as she repeated, “I’m fine.”

She didn’t sound fine, but Miranda didn’t push the issue; she knew that in the end, this was something that Jack was going to have to work through on her own. And she hated that, because if she had the means then she wouldn’t hesitate to take away all of the pain that Jack felt, but something like that just wasn’t possible; there was no magic fix to making this better, and what had happened today was something Jack was going to have to learn to live with for the rest of her life. It was terrible, but it was… that was just the way it was.

“Jack,” Miranda called out as she rose from the cot, making the woman stop in her tracks on her way out of the med tent. Jack didn’t turn around, but Miranda didn’t need her to see her; only for her to hear her words. “Call me, alright? If… if you ever find that you’re not okay. No matter where I am, I’ll find my way to you, I promise.”

Jack didn’t say anything for a moment, and she didn’t turn around. Miranda pursed her lips as she waited, and then finally Jack nodded; just slightly and so quickly that the operative almost missed it, before Jack quickly strode from the tent, leaving Miranda alone. She exhaled a long breath then as she pushed the hair out of her face, wishing her heart didn’t ache every time she was separated from the other woman; especially when she was worried about her, which seemed to be more often than not as of late. But the war was over now, and with its end came the chance for some safety and normalcy. Perhaps now they could start over, and maybe the best way to do that would be to prove that, should Jack need her, she would always be there for her.

And so as Miranda exited the tent, she resolved that whenever Jack called – day or night, in the middle of something else or not – that she would be there, because this... how she felt about Jack, how Jack felt about _her…_ was too important to screw up for a second time.

[x]

At Jack’s request, the next time Miranda saw her was at her students’ funeral. The woman still felt an overwhelming sense of self-blame and regret over what had happened, and it was clear that she didn’t feel comfortable going alone. Jack never said as much, at least not out loud, and honestly in the end she couldn’t even directly ask for support, as the only thing she even said about it was a mumbled admission that the funerals were going to happen soon via holocam, but Miranda understood the request all the same and immediately offered to go. Jack had complied with a stiff nod, and come the next morning Miranda found herself on the next shuttle headed to the Citadel.

It had been a difficult day and by the end of it Miranda wasn’t surprised that Jack had asked to be left alone. So Miranda gently kissed her on the cheek and reminded Jack that she could call whenever she needed her, before shipping out to rejoin the reconstruction efforts back on Earth. Even with the war over, there was still so much to do, and it seemed that both her and Jack’s jobs were never stationed in the same system, let alone the same planet. Because of that, it was difficult to rekindle their relationship; they both still had so much to talk about, so much to work through, but it seemed their conversation never headed into that direction whenever they spoke, perhaps because both of them wondered how feasible a relationship right now would even be, with her here and Jack there. When would they even have the time to see one another?

And yet even still, they yearned; it was obvious in the way that they looked at each over via holocam, or spoke to one another as though they were just waiting for the other to invite them to drop everything and come to them. They never did though, both of them realizing that the other was doing something important, and not wanting to disrupt each other’s lives. Miranda was busy with the Alliance’s reconstruction work after the war on Earth, and Jack was helping Grissom Academy rebuild on Illium after a fallen Reaper knocked the old station out of orbit. They were nowhere near one another, and it looked as though that would be the case for a very long time.

At least, that was, until Miranda received a phone call that would change the direction of her career.

She was on her way out of the hospital when it happened, having been visiting Shepard during her brief trip to the Citadel where she was sent to procure more resources for colony redevelopment. Technically, she was still on Alliance time and probably shouldn’t have even been there – as the visit was more personal than professional, despite the commander’s ties to the Alliance – but Miranda couldn’t pass up an opportunity to see her, as she hadn’t been able to since the woman’s unconscious form had been found beneath the rubble back on Earth. 

Whatever Shepard had done to end the Reaper war, it nearly killed her, and she had been in a coma ever since. Liara had been practically camped out in the hospital for weeks now, and she looked utterly exhausted as she attempted to put on an optimistic expression and inform Miranda that despite the minimal progress they had made with Shepard’s condition, the doctors were still hopeful for a full recovery. Miranda could tell that Liara didn’t quite believe it though, and it made the operative’s heart ache for her; Shepard was her friend and this was devastating to her as well, but Liara was her bondmate. It was… it was different; it was so _very_ different, and honestly Miranda didn’t know how the asari was still standing upright during all of this. If it were her, Miranda was certain that something like this would have crippled her.

After promising Liara that she would help in any way she could, Miranda left the hospital in order to gather as much intel as she could on the Lazarus Project with the hope that it would be of some assistance in Shepard’s recovery. When she had resigned and ran from Cerberus, Miranda had taken quite a lot of the organization’s secrets with her as a safeguard, and now perhaps they would be of some use. While there was a big difference between doctors and scientists, perhaps even just a better understanding of Shepard’s unique genetic reconstruction would provide them with a way to help her recover. And if not, well, Miranda had brought the woman back to life once before; surely bringing her back from a coma would be far easier. As of right now though, Liara was set on allowing modern medicine to try to garner favorable results, as she wasn’t entirely certain that Shepard would want more people ‘messing under the hood’ – so to speak – just to keep her alive again. So for now, this would have to do; Miranda just hoped that it would work.

She was barely through the hospital’s doors when the phone call came through. It was one she had been expecting; however the proposal she was offered was not. And despite her reservations about being involved in something she had purposely ran from for the better part of her life, the opportunity provided her with benefits that she would be a fool to just dismiss due to her own childhood trauma. In the end, this… none of this, could even hurt her anymore, and perhaps this was a chance to make something better of the worst parts of her past.

Immediately after she had hung up, Miranda sat on one of the benches outside of the hospital and dialed Jack’s number; the former convict picked up on the second ring. “Thought you weren’t calling ‘til later tonight,” Jack answered, not even bothering to say hello; Miranda was used to it though, formalities weren’t exactly Jack’s forte. “Did something—I mean, are you… alright, or whatever?”

She sounded worried, and so Miranda immediately tried to set her at ease with, “Yeah, I’m—I’m sorry, I know we had plans to holocall later, but I just… I got a phone call about a possible job opportunity, and I really wanted to speak to you about it before I officially accepted the position.”

“You’re running life shit by me now?” Jack asked, sounding surprised. “Why? I don’t got anything to do with it.”

“Which certainly isn’t from my lack of wanting your involvement in my life, Jack,” Miranda responded, not exactly one to pretend anymore that she didn’t stand where she did in regards to their relationship, or rather lack thereof at the time. Still, they both had responsibilities on quite literally opposite ends of the galaxy, and perhaps some kind of yearning friendship was more appropriate at the time. That, however, was hopefully about to change. “And in fact that is actually… rather relevant to this conversation at the moment.”

“Wait. Are you— the hell you talking about?” Jack asked, sounding torn between allowing herself to be excited that Miranda meant what she thought she meant, and being wary that she was just getting her hopes up. “Is the job… is it _here_ or something?”

Miranda smiled, cradling the wireless between her ear and shoulder as she couldn’t resist teasing her for a moment. “Why? Is that something you would want…?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Cheerleader; I haven’t gotten laid in like a month and a half and it’s driving me fucking insane.”

Miranda chuckled as she shifted her position on the bench, crossing one leg over the other as she leaned back in her seat. “Oh? And here I thought people would be lining up at your door for the privilege, with you practically being a free woman and all.” 

It was meant to be teasing and yet even still, Miranda’s heart clenched in her chest at the thought. Jack may not owe her any loyalty in that regard, at least with where they were currently at in their relationship, but that didn’t mean she wanted Jack to be off exploring her options while they were separated either. Just the mere thought of it made Miranda sick to her stomach.

“Not saying I don’t have opportunities, dumbass,” Jack responded, her tone only mildly irritated before it suddenly grew softer, a little more hesitant as she tentatively revealed, “They’re just… they’re not _you_ , okay? So just—just fuck off and tell me if you’re coming here or not, because if you’re just screwing with me I swear to God.”

Miranda’s smile slowly slid across her face at those words until it was bright and beaming, an unwavering happiness taking ahold of her at Jack’s unwillingness to look for pleasure in other outlets. She knew how the woman felt about her of course, but still… with things the way they were, it wouldn’t have been unreasonable for her to not wait until she and Miranda could have something that was actually real. “Yes, Jack,” she told her softly. “I’m coming to Illium.”

Miranda could practically hear the returned smile in Jack’s tone. “…Yeah? Like you’re being a hundred percent fucking serious right now?”

“Well, so long as I take the job, then yes.”

“So fucking take it!” Jack exclaimed, and Miranda couldn’t help but chuckle happily at the eagerness in the other woman’s tone. “The hell are you waiting for?”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly sure where we stood,” Miranda explained, shifting in her position on the bench as she sat up a little straighter. “The aftermath of the war hasn’t exactly made it easy for us to… reconnect, and I know you still had things to think about in regards to us, and what you wanted from me, and in the end you could have decided that—”

“That what, I didn’t want you anymore?” Jack interrupted, finishing her thought. Miranda bit her lower lip and shrugged, until she remembered that they weren’t on a holocall and Jack couldn’t see her do that. But it didn’t seem to matter anyway, as Jack to continued, “Are you fucking stupid?”

Miranda rolled her eyes at that, but felt exponentially better at Jack’s answer. “Paranoid, I believe would be a better term.” Taking a small inhale of breath, Miranda shrugged again a little self-consciously and continued, “I don’t know, I just didn’t… I didn’t want to overstep my bounds. The new school is being built on Nos Astra, and thus that’s where you’ll be staying for as long as you continue to work for the Academy. If you had decided you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore, I wouldn’t have wanted to make things uncomfortable by being too close; I mean, there are a fair amount of other assignments I could undertake for the Alliance, if need be.”

“Well if I didn’t want you then I would’ve fucked like twelve other people by now, so just relax with your pointless paranoia and get your ass down here,” Jack demanded impatiently, which made Miranda chuckle softly, glad to be getting an enthusiastic reception to her news. A small part of her had been worried that her being closer wasn’t what Jack had wanted, but perhaps that had just been a foolish, paranoid thought on her behalf. 

“Don’t you want to know what the job is?” Miranda teased, idly playing with a strand of her hair. “Or is your overactive libido the only thing you’re concerned with?”

“Fuck you, of course I wanna know,” Jack answered, scoffing. “But that doesn’t mean that I can’t be excited about being able to rip off your clothes soon.”

Miranda smirked. “You don’t want to talk first? Because we really do have quite a lot of things we need to address about our—”

“What are you, new?” Jack interrupted, another scoff falling from her lips. “Talking comes after orgasms, Cheerleader; now shut up about that and tell me about this new job of yours. It’s for the Alliance still, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Miranda affirmed, trying to suppress her amusement over Jack’s unwavering plan of action for the next time they saw one another. “Although, I suppose technically I’ll be working more for myself than the Alliance; it’s… a little complicated. You remember… what I said about my father; that he was very wealthy, and very powerful?”

“Yeah…” Jack responded, suddenly sounding a little wary at the mention of Miranda’s father; she was aware just how much of a nightmare that man had been for her.

“Well, it seems that in the event of his death, his entire empire went to Oriana,” Miranda explained. “He probably believed that by the time he died he would have gotten her back; or perhaps it was just that, as his only two heirs, she was a much more appealing option than I was. Honestly I’m unsure of what exactly he was thinking when he drew up his will, all I know is that my sister inherited everything that he owned.”

“Alright…” Jack slowly replied, still sounding a little unsure of this. “So where do you and the Alliance come into all of this shit?”

“Well, Oriana, she… she wasn’t interested in his money or his corporation, and decided to sign over her portion of our father’s will to me,” Miranda told her, twisting a few strands of hair so tightly within her fingers that the ends frayed. She was a little worried about how Jack was going to take all this, considering the ties it held to her father; because hell, even _she_ was a little concerned about it. “And honestly I wasn’t very interested in it either, which is why I offered to give it all to the Alliance, hoping that something good may come out of my father’s questionable research and seemingly unlimited funds. His genetic modification project, for example, while highly illegal, was still far ahead of its time, and could provide invaluable advancements into modern science and medicine if put into the right hands.”

“And apparently,” Miranda continued, “with not only my own personal experience with genetically modified DNA, but my work on the Lazarus Project, the Alliance feels that I’m… uniquely qualified to head the new science and research facility that they’re starting on Nos Astra.”

Silence.

Miranda chewed nervously on her bottom lip as she awaited Jack’s response, which finally came after a sharp inhale of breath. “Alright, so lemme get this straight,” Jack began slowly. “You spend your whole goddamn life trying to get away from anything to do with your shitfuck of a father, and now you’re gonna head up a research facility that’s not only funded by his blood money, but whose entire fucking purpose is to further his own screwed up research?” 

Miranda’s brow creased as she frowned. Well when she put it like that, it didn’t sound all that appealing. Still, there was the bigger picture to consider, which was why she was contemplating it in the first place. “Look, I know it sounds… strange, but something like this is much larger than myself and my childhood trauma, Jack. If done right this time, we could end up helping quite a lot of people.”

“And… and Shepard, you know,” Miranda continued, her voice growing a little tight with emotion. “She’s still in a coma, hooked up to all these things just to keep her organs functioning, and the doctors are having a terrible time trying to get her better because she’s not… she’s not _normal_. Shepard’s not normal because of what _I_ did to her, and those kinds of advancements are so far beyond the scope of normal medicine that the doctors don’t know how to approach her treatment. I promised Liara I would help, and while at first I was just going to hand over my research on the Lazarus Project to the doctors, if I headed a facility like this, I could potentially oversee her treatment if I dedicated a small portion of it to… rebuilding her, if you will. I feel like I owe her that, Jack.”

Jack was silent for a long moment, and Miranda could hear her exhale a long breath on the other end of the line. “Look, I’m not—like I get that this could be a good thing, but being around all that shit again… what if it fucks you up?”

“I’m a big girl, Jack.”

“Fuck you, I’m not saying you’re not, but I’m just…” Jack tried, before sighing helplessly. “I dunno. I just worry or whatever, alright? Like this shit could hit way too close to home.”

“I know it runs that risk, but…” Miranda began, then matched Jack’s soft sigh with one of her own as she pushed the hair back out of her face. “But I have to try. Besides, after I handed all of it over to the Alliance, a part of me worried about whose hands it would fall into in the end. This way, I at least would be _controlling_ my former nightmare; does that make sense to you? And maybe I could make it into something better; something that doesn’t haunt me.”

“Look, I’ll back you on whatever you want to do, Miranda, but I just wanna know that you took a fucking second and really _thought_ about what you’re getting yourself into here.”

“I know, Jack, okay? Believe me, I… I know,” Miranda answered. A soft smile crossed her face then as she cradled the wireless to her ear and finished quietly, “But I… I appreciate the concern. More than you could know. I’m sure not many other people would implore me to think about whether or not a job of this magnitude was a good idea, as it really is a rather incredible offer on paper.”

“Well then other people are fucking idiots, ‘cause anyone with half a brain could see that this has the potential to screw with you,” Jack responded, and Miranda had to suppress a smile at the passionate tone of the other woman’s voice. If she ever had any doubt about how much Jack cared for her wellbeing, then this would have squandered it. “So just… be sure, yeah?”

“I’m sure,” Miranda assured her. “I promise you, I’m sure. I think… I think I might actually have the potential to do a lot of good there, and with what’s going on with Shepard, I think I owe it to her, and even to myself, to give this a chance.”

Jack was silent for a moment, sounding as though she was chewing lightly on the inside of her cheek before she relented with an, “Okay. But if it starts to fuck you up too much then just hand it off to someone else, yeah? The Alliance has gotta have eight million other things you could do instead, so just… don’t think you’re stuck there or something, alright?”

Miranda smiled softly, feeling the warmth of it run through her chest. “You know, your concern for me is rather unexpectedly touching.”

“Fuck you, don’t make this out to be some kind of pansy ass bullshit,” Jack snapped, but her tone didn’t really hold any bite to it and it only made Miranda smirk lightly. “I just don’t want you getting all fucked up over this, that a crime now?”

“No,” Miranda responded, the smile unable to fade from her face. She missed this, her… feeling this way. She missed smiling. “I’m just… rather glad for it, is all. And I promise I’ll be fine. And if it turns out that I’m not… then I’ll leave, alright? I won’t torture myself.”

“—Fine,” Jack agreed, although still sounded rather begrudging about it. There was a long pause for a moment, and then she continued slowly, “So… when you get to Illium, the first thing you’re gonna do is knock on my fucking door, right?”

A slow smirk crept across Miranda’s face as she crossed one leg over the other. “If you’d like.”

“Without any clothes on?”

Miranda laughed. “I’m going to have to say ‘no’ on that, but perhaps I could be persuaded to be a little more risqué than normal.”

“…Like no panties?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of nothing but heels and a trench coat, since you seem so inclined to bend me over the second you lay eyes on me again. I believe a more suitable wardrobe would make that easier for you; and besides, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been imagining a similar scenario every night when I…” But Miranda paused, remembering that while there was no one directly around her, she was still very much in public as she finished with a softer, “Well… I’m sure you get the idea.”

Jack audibly groaned, the sound deep and needy as it emitted from the back of her throat, and Miranda’s smirk instantly widened. “ _Fuck,_ ” she swore. “You know you’re like my favorite fucking person, right?”

“I am beginning to get that idea, yes,” Miranda responded, gently biting on her bottom lip as she listened to the telltale sound of Jack’s breathing picking up. It had been quite a while for her though; it was no wonder she was turned on by just the mere mention of the fun that was to come. And if Miranda was being honest with herself, the fact that she could arouse Jack so easily turned _her_ on in kind. 

“Are you alone?” she whispered into her wireless, rising to stand from the bench she was seated on as she tried to find somewhere semi-private. She knew Jack was at work; or rather, still helping to rebuild what would soon be her work, but she wasn’t sure how far along the building was, or if Jack had any place to go.

“Way ahead of you, princess,” Jack responded breathlessly. “Already locked myself in one of the finished offices and have my hand down my pants, so fucking talk to me.”

Miranda bit her bottom lip as she suppressed a grin, excitement brewing in the pit of her stomach. They had spoken quite often over the phone, through email, and even over holocam, but they never did this; perhaps before, with everything so unstable between them, it would have just made their separation harder. But now Miranda was coming to Illium, and this was turning into not just a tease, but a preview into a returning part of their life that they both very much missed.

And so Miranda hid herself around the side of the building behind a large bush, as the excitement of getting caught had always thrilled her in all those disastrous little ways, and fucked herself to the sound of Jack’s voice, and all the dirty little things the woman was planning to do to her once they saw one another again. And when she finally came, Miranda found herself praying that it wouldn’t be too long until she shipped out, because coming against her own hand held no comparison to convulsing around the fingers of the woman who Miranda had once thought would be the last person in this galaxy that she would have ever thought to need.

**TBC…**


	14. XIV

****

XIV.

Miranda was certain she had never felt so utterly nervous before in her life.

And it was ridiculous really, as it wasn’t as though she hadn’t seen Jack in ages; it had just been a little under two months this time, which was nothing compared to the separation they had had after they had broken up. Still, this was… this was _different_ ; this time, she was standing outside of Jack’s apartment with the full realization that after she left, she wouldn’t be going very far. Miranda was on this planet to stay, and that finally opened up the option for them to pursue an actual relationship, which was something they had both wanted for months now. And in a way, a part of Miranda was still worried that she would manage to screw it up, as she had never really been good at stuff like this.

But she also wasn’t foolish enough to run from something she wanted so desperately, as she had already made that mistake once before. And so, after taking a deep breath in order to calm herself, Miranda swallowed hard and placed her knuckles against the door.

It only took a full thirty seconds for it to swing open after she had knocked, and suddenly Jack was just standing there in front of her, seemingly frozen mid-motion as she stared at Miranda like she had lost the ability to comprehend actual human thought. Miranda bit the inside of her cheek as Jack’s gaze took in everything from the outfit she had promised her, to the object she was holding in her hands, and suddenly the operative found herself wondering if maybe she should have asked first if Jack even wanted anything for a housewarming gift. It had seemed appropriate, but now Jack just seemed… well, rather stuck.

“Okay, I… I don’t really know what the fuck to do here,” Jack finally admitted, looking a little lost as she continued to stare at Miranda. “Like I expected you to show up in _that_ and then I’d, I don’t know, fuck you up against a wall or some shit, but you… you brought—”

“A fish,” Miranda finished for her, hoping she didn’t sound as awkward as she felt as she readjusted her hold on the tank in her hands. “I just… I know you said you wanted one a while ago, and I didn’t—I mean, I couldn’t really think of anything else to get you for a housewarming present, so I just thought…”

“No, trust me, Cheerleader, I get why you…” Jack began, still staring at the fish in Miranda’s hands. “I just didn’t think you’d… I don’t know, even fucking remember? So I’m a little…”

“I’m sorry,” Miranda apologized, her brow creasing as she began to feel foolish. “I didn’t mean for this to be overwhelming for you, I just thought you’d like it.”

“No, I do—I mean, fucking obviously, I just…” Jack tried, running her hand over the top of her head before she shook it and backtracked with, “Sorry, I’m being an ass and you’re just standing out there, so just—come in, okay? Just get in here.”

Miranda chewed on her bottom lip a little nervously but complied with the invitation and stepped inside. After Jack had closed the door behind her, she took the tank from the operative’s hands and placed it on what Miranda could only assume was supposed to constitute for a dining room table before squatting on her haunches and peering at the fish inside of it. 

“It’s a Thessian Sunfish,” Miranda told her, just to break the silence. “I… I know this is going to sound rather stupid, but I had noticed that it was the one fish that seemed to garner the majority of your attention in Shepard’s cabin, and as ridiculous as this may seem, I remember being… actually kind of jealous of it at the time, so I just thought—”

“You were jealous of a _fish?_ ” Jack asked, snorting in amusement as she turned to look at her. Miranda had to fight the urge not to flush in embarrassment as she shot her an indignant look.

“Well it’s not often that people don’t fall all over themselves after they sleep with me, and so being ignored for a fish was rather irritating to me at the time, yes.”

Jack laughed as she rose to stand, and this time, Miranda’s cheeks did color with a faint shade of pink. “Oh my God, you’re such a fucking piece of work.” Miranda glared at her then, and slapped Jack’s hand away in irritation over being mocked when she attempted to reach for her. But Jack just laughed it off and grabbed the knot that tied Miranda’s trench coat together, pulling her flush against her. “Relax. You being jealous of a freaking fish might be the best thing I’ve heard all year; I’m taking it as a compliment.”

“Oh, shut _up—_ ”

But Miranda’s words were cut off with a kiss, and she felt herself melt into the other woman as her eyes fluttered shut and suddenly her back was being pressed up against the far wall. “Wanna hear a secret?” Jack breathed against her lips when they broke, and when they made eye contact Miranda found herself swallowing hard and nodding. Jack grinned. “I… _may_ have been staring at that fucking fish tank so goddamn intently just because I was afraid that if I looked at you for too long I’d start drooling or some shit.”

Miranda snorted in amusement at that mental image. “Drooling, _really?_ ” That confession did make her feel better though – much less foolish by far – and so she was glad for it.

“Fuck you, not _technically_ just… you know what I mean. I just… I fucking hated that I wanted you so bad, you know? That I… that I couldn’t stop thinking about you after we screwed on that table. And yeah maybe then it was just about sex, but I thought I hated everything about you, Cheerleader; you were supposed to be nothing to me, and then you…” Jack’s brow creased then, her voice growing a little softer as she finished, “then you weren’t.”

Miranda wet her bottom lip as her gaze flickered to Jack’s eyes. “I know the feeling,” she admitted in a whisper, her fingers gently brushing a fallen strand of hair away from the other woman’s eyes. She smiled softly at her then, the pads of her fingers tracing the outline of the former convict’s jaw. “I’m glad we didn’t turn out to be nothing to one another, Jack.”

Jack caught her gaze for a long moment, before her eyes finally flickered to her lips and she captured Miranda’s in a soft kiss. It didn’t stay that way for long though, Miranda opening her mouth to allow the other woman’s tongue to slide deep inside, and a soft groan left the back of her throat as she reached for her. As she brought her closer to her body, feeling Jack’s breasts press firmly against her own, Miranda felt the teacher nip at her bottom lip, gently pulling on it before allowing it to snap back with a wicked grin. Miranda felt her breathing shallow as she caught her gaze for a short moment, before suddenly surging forward and kissing her with a little more force, a little more passion as Jack began to back up towards the couch, pulling on the ties that bound Miranda’s trench coat together as she returned the kiss with just as much fervor.

“We done with the mushy shit now?” Jack asked breathlessly as she practically threw Miranda’s coat open, revealing nothing but skin underneath. Miranda moaned softly as hands cupped her breasts, and as she closed her eyes she nodded, shrugging herself out of the fabric as it pooled at the bottom of her feet. 

“Yes,” she whispered, her fingers curling around Jack’s bicep as the woman began littering hot, open mouthed kisses against the base of her neck. A sharp gasp was elicited as Jack began to suck with a little more force, marking her skin; marking her as _hers._ It ignited a fierce heat between her thighs that Miranda hadn’t felt for a long time, and she wordlessly encouraged more of it by grasping onto the back of her head, keeping Jack where she was.

“Good,” Jack breathed out against her skin, the words causing a shiver to run down the operative’s spine as her lips grew closer to her ear. Placing her mouth against the shell of her right one, Jack finished pointedly with, “Because I’ve been fucking dreaming about that cunt of yours for months now, princess.”

Before Miranda could say anything in return however, she was suddenly pushed backwards, tumbling over the arm rest of the couch before landing rather unceremoniously against the cushions. She let out a small yelp as she fell, which caused Jack to laugh as she came around the other side of it, stripping off her jacket and whatever the hell the woman thought constituted as a shirt. Miranda had landed on her back, one of her legs up over the backside of the couch with her heel dangling half off her foot, and Jack smirked at the sight of it. “You got the hot mess thing down pat, Cheerleader.”

“Fuck you,” Miranda shot back breathlessly as she struggled to sit up, grabbing onto the ties that held Jack’s cargo pants up and she pulled, causing the woman to lose her footing as she fell practically on top of her. Miranda laughed at Jack’s scowl before she kissed her, her hands beginning to push the pants down from off of the other woman’s hips. Her fingers then found the rest of the white wrap that Jack was wearing and as she broke the kiss she asked, “What even _is_ this?”

“Clothes, princess; look it up,” Jack sassed back as she kicked off her shoes, followed by her pants before unrolling the piece of white cloth that, for some reason, was even wrapped around her thighs. Miranda snorted.

“If you say so.”

“Fuck you, I look hot in this shit,” Jack countered as she straddled Miranda’s waist, finally devoid of all of her ‘clothing’. Miranda grinned as she bit down gently on her bottom lip, her fingers tracing the dip in Jack’s waist before dragging her nails up further to outline the swell of her breasts.

“Believe me, nobody’s arguing _that…_ ” Miranda responded, the pads of her fingers brushing over the other woman’s achingly hard nipples, causing Jack to groan softly and close her eyes. Propping herself up on her elbows then, Miranda leaned up to take one of her breasts into her mouth, nipping and sucking and pulling on the tip of her nipple until Jack growled, snatched the operative’s wrists into her hands, and pinned her against the couch with her arms above her head. Miranda smirked, arching her back to allow her own hardened nipples to scrape wantonly against Jack’s skin, the movement of it causing the other woman’s eyes to darken in need.

“You know…” Jack breathed against her lips, lightly nipping at the bottom one as she slid her thigh between Miranda’s legs, pressing hard enough against her dripping center to elicit a soft gasp from the woman beneath her. “You still owe me that slave day from like… fucking forever ago.”

“I do,” Miranda concurred, her voice just as soft as she pressed her sex a little firmer against Jack’s thigh, until the other woman pointedly took away the friction she was providing her and smirked. Miranda’s eyebrow quirked. “Are you suggesting I make good on that promise right now?”

“What? No,” Jack responded, looking a little confused that Miranda would even draw what she had thought was the obvious conclusion to that little mention. “That shit requires talking; figuring out boundaries and scenarios and safe words and crap first. I was just… saying; wanted to make sure you didn’t forget, ‘cause I still…” Jack’s lips quirked into a smirk then, pressing down a little firmer on the hold she had on Miranda’s wrists as she ground her own pussy against the other woman’s thigh. “Well, I still kinda want to hogtie your ass before I spank it, princess. I wanna hear you fucking squeal.”

“Mmm,” Miranda moaned, the sound of it soft and needy as she pressed her thigh firmer between Jack’s legs, making the other woman groan deep in the back of her throat. “You could do that to me now, you know…” Miranda breathed, leaning up just enough to brush her lips against Jack’s. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

“Nah, don’t say that,” Jack responded, shaking her head. “Like that’s kinda fucked up. Everyone’s got boundaries; I don’t want to end up hurting you or something.” Miranda raised a disbelieving eyebrow at that, and Jack smirked and revised, “Well in a way that’s not fun, obviously.” Rolling her eyes then, Jack dismissed the conversation with a hand finally falling between Miranda’s thighs and an impatient sounding, “Whatever. Just saying you owe me; so don’t forget it.”

“I won’t,” Miranda promised before she groaned softly, feeling Jack’s fingers run through her dampened folds. “Fuck,” she breathed, reaching for the other woman and encouraging her to lie fully on top of her. As good as a rough fuck sounded to her, there was a part of Miranda that yearned for the closeness she had been denied for far too long. “Kiss me…”

“Girl,” Jack accused with a soft snort, but she did what was instructed of her and captured Miranda’s lips in a soft kiss, two of her fingers sliding deep inside of her and causing a sharp gasp to release from the back of the operative’s throat. It didn’t last long though, and Jack grinned as she slid her fingers out of her, and held them up to the other woman’s lips in offering. Miranda quirked an eyebrow at her, the expression being returned by Jack before Miranda chuckled softly and leaned in to slide the digits into her mouth. 

Miranda held eye contact as she allowed her tongue to slowly remove any evidence of her own arousal off of Jack’s fingers, watching intently as the other woman’s pupils darkened at the display. “See, it’s shit like this that makes me not interested in having anyone else in my fucking bed.”

After Miranda released Jack’s fingers, she raised a disbelieving eyebrow in her direction and responded with, “I highly doubt you’ll find a shortage of women willing to taste their own arousal off your fingers, Jack.”

“Not that specifically, dumbass,” Jack shot back, rolling her eyes. She then scrunched up her face a little as she shrugged and explained, “Just… how hot you look doing it, okay? Nobody could ever fucking come close. You’re like… you know, a fucking thirty seven on a scale from one to ten, basically.” 

Miranda chuckled at the compliment, biting down softly on her bottom lip as she ran her hands along the length of the younger woman’s back. “Oh? So is my… _scale-defying hotness_ the only reason you’re interested in having no one other than me in your bed…?” She leaned up then to gently nip at Jack’s bottom lip, which encouraged the other woman to kiss her softly before suddenly placing her hand on her shoulder and roughly pushing her down against the cushions.

“Nah ah, don’t try to trap me into some mushy bullshit, Cheerleader; you fucking promised we were done with that.”

“Did I?” Miranda countered, feigning innocence outside of the wicked smirk that now adorned her features. “Because I don’t remember saying ‘I promise’ anywhere in my response, actually.” Jack shot her a look of warning that Miranda just laughed off before pushing her, causing the other woman to yelp in a rather girlish manner as she tumbled off of the couch and onto the floor. Before she could move though, Miranda was on her in a flash, straddling her waist and pinning her wrists to the ground.

“The fuck are you—?”

“I’ve decided I want to top. Problem?” Miranda asked, her tone filled with amusement as she watched Jack’s eyes flash in irritation at their change of position; it wasn’t often that she was the submissive one in these scenarios.

“Fuck you, pillow princess; I always top.”

“Oh, _pillow princess,_ now, is it?” Miranda responded disbelievingly, raising an eyebrow at the woman beneath her. “You and I both know how wrong that assessment is, Jack; because while I may usually find myself beneath you, I’m _hardly_ lazy about it.” Jack just glared at her in response, and Miranda’s lips quirked into a smirk. “I’ll let you top if you want, but you have to answer my question first.”

“Screw you, that’s not how this shit works.”

“Then by all means reclaim your dominance,” Miranda goaded, the smirk not fading from her face as she finished, “ _if you can._ ”

Jack tried to move then, but Miranda was ready for her surge of strength and with gravity working in her favor, Jack could barely get an inch off the ground before she was slammed back down, Miranda covering her entire body with her own to better keep her pinned. Jack growled in warning and Miranda chuckled low in her throat, bending down to gently bite at the skin of the younger woman’s neck. “Nice try,” she breathed into her ear, causing Jack to briefly fight against her again before she was ultimately subdued.

“I’m this fucking close to using my biotics, bitch.”

“That would be cheating,” Miranda lightly chided, still sounding amused as she looked down at her. “Besides, you say that as though I don’t have them myself. No matter what you try to do, we’re still going to be evenly matched; so why don’t you just give me what I want, and then I’ll give you what _you_ want…?”

Jack glowered at her. “Fuck you, I don’t…” But then she averted eye contact, suddenly sounding a little self-conscious as she told her, “I don’t wanna say it, okay?”

Suddenly this became less of a game for Miranda and her brow creased as she loosened the hold on Jack’s wrists, still pinning her there, but not as aggressively. “…Why not?”

“Because the first damn thing I thought of was sappy and embarrassing and fucking stupid, alright?” Jack snapped back, clearly uncomfortable by this line of questioning now, which in the end, only furthered Miranda’s curiosity. Biting her lower lip, Miranda let her go then and moved to lie to the other woman’s side, propping her head up with her hand as she looked down at her.

“Jack,” she coaxed gently, watching the former convict’s gaze flicker upwards to meet her own. “Tell me.”

“Why, so you can fucking laugh at me?”

“Jack, no, I would _never—_ ” Miranda tried, then sighed softly as she reached for the other woman’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Chewing gently on her bottom lip, she shook her head and then lightly shrugged. “Actually no, you know what, it’s—it’s fine, you don’t have to tell me. I shouldn’t have pushed; you’re entitled to keep anything you feel to yourself if you don’t feel comfortable sharing it. I’m sorry.”

Jack chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment, silent as she looked down at their linked hands, and then back upwards to catch Miranda’s eyes. And then, after what seemed like forever, she rolled her eyes and dramatically huffed as she turned her gaze towards the ceiling and flatly admitted, “Look, I was just fucking thinking that I could be in a room full of people, and you’d be the only… the only _damn_ person that I’d ever see, okay? That’s it, so don’t fucking get all… _whatever_ on me, alright? We’ve met our goddamn mushy quota for the day.”

Miranda felt her breath leave her at that statement, not having expected something like that, nor expecting Jack to even tell her after she had given her an out not to. In a way, that meant even more than the words themselves, as clearly Jack had decided that she could trust her with something that made her sound rather attached and emotionally vulnerable; and considering one of the main issues between them, the last time they spoke of anything serious anyhow, was the lack of trust Jack had in her, something like that spoke _volumes._

And so Miranda, not really knowing what to say or what to even do, just did the first thing she could think of and kissed her with every ounce of emotion that Jack’s words made her feel. Jack tried to speak after they had broken, but Miranda just hushed her with a breathless demand of, “Shut up; I know you’re going to try to belittle it, or make it seem less than what it is, but just… just shut up, because I’m going to fuck the hell out of you for that.”

“ _Finally,_ ” Jack responded in an impatient tone, but Miranda could see beneath what she projected, and could tell that she was uncomfortable with the direction things had turned; and so to make it easier on her, Miranda just smiled at her before placing a lingering kiss on her lips, before she descended down her body and brought their interaction back to something Jack could understand. 

“Shit,” Jack gasped as Miranda’s mouth found its way between her thighs, causing the former convict to arch her back and tangle her fingers in dark hair. Jack was soaked already, and Miranda felt a little bad for making her wait so long, but in the end, she found what the woman said to her to be worth waiting a little longer to get to this point; and now, if she had anything to say about it, she was going to make it worth it for _Jack_ at least three times over.

“Thought I was— _fuck,_ supposed to top now, Cheerleader,” Jack groaned, although didn’t seem as annoyed about that as she probably should have as she fisted her hand tighter in Miranda’s hair and ground her hips into the operative’s face. In the end, Jack did like to have control, but she still enjoyed orgasms even more than that, and would take one anyway she could get it. Miranda smirked as she bit the inside of the woman’s thigh, causing Jack to swear and buck her hips.

“You can sit on my face if you’d like, but I promise if you give me a little leeway here, it’ll _very_ much be worth your while…” Miranda breathed against her skin, before gently scraping her teeth against Jack’s clit before taking the bundle of nerves entirely into her mouth, flicking her tongue against it in rapid succession until a deep flush crossed the other woman’s chest as her hand slammed against the hardwood floor.

“Shit, yeah—fine, fucking show me something then, princess,” Jack gasped out, and Miranda grinned before taking a firm hold on Jack’s hips, and roughly turning the woman around until her stomach was against the floor. Jack audibly groaned at Miranda’s forcefulness as she guided her up on her knees then, allowing the teacher’s top half to still be lying against the floor before she spread her open once more and placed her mouth against her center. 

Jack’s moans grew exponentially louder as Miranda slid her hands up, parting the woman’s cheeks as she slid both of her thumbs deep into her dripping center. Her tongue then found a new home farther up, teasing Jack’s other entrance just lightly enough to drive the woman beneath her insane as her nails scraped against the wooden floors and she swore. “Fuck, _fuck;_ keep doing that… _Jesus…_ ”

In their relationship, Miranda had usually been on the receiving end of anything anal, as Jack seemed to get a kick out of ‘violating’ her in every and any way that she could, but as Jack’s flushed cheek lay against the cold hardwood floor, her breath coming out in uneven bursts as Miranda pleasured an area that wasn’t as well known to her, she found she understood Jack’s desire to do it. Because something like that wasn’t done as often as others, the look on the other woman’s face… it was like Christmas had come early, and Miranda _very_ much enjoyed making her look that way.

Miranda slid her thumbs out of the other woman before licking the arousal off of them, and when Jack made a noise of complaint about the lack of pleasure _she_ was receiving, Miranda’s palm came down on Jack’s ass, the sound of it echoing through the other woman’s practically bare living room as Jack bit back a swear. Miranda smirked then, chiding her with, “Patience,” just before Jack started goading her to ‘stop being such a fucking girl and hit her harder.’

So Miranda cocked an eyebrow in her direction before delivering a slap that left a bright red hand print on the other woman’s ass, the force of it causing Jack’s body to careen forward as a deep moan ripped from the back of her throat. Miranda had just wanted to dance near the line of control for a moment before ultimately giving it back to Jack, but seeing that the other woman was not only willing to let her top, but was vocally _encouraging_ her to do so, set a tone for the next forty five minutes or so while Miranda gave Jack multiple orgasms and found herself getting drunk on the power of it. 

Of course, eventually, Jack decided she was done playing bottom and put Miranda over her knee to pay back every slap the operative dealt in kind. And it was fun – not to mention very pleasurable – playing with her in that way; it had been a long time since they had done any sort of exchange of power, and it kind of took the pressure off of their newly rekindled relationship and the emotions behind it as they allowed this to just be about sex. 

In the end though, after they had christened every room in the house per Jack’s request, they eventually made it into the other woman’s bedroom and into her bed. And maybe there was just something about the intimacy of the bedroom, or the fact that they were too exhausted by that point to do anything other than touch each other with a sense of gentleness that was lost to them before, but suddenly Miranda found herself trapped beneath Jack’s form, digging her nails into the woman’s back as she looked her in the eyes, feeling the most intense orgasm of the evening begin to build in the pit of her abdomen. 

Miranda was whispering Jack’s name over and over against her lips until she finally came with a violent shudder, grasping onto the woman on top of her like she was her last tie to this life. Jack kissed her then, slow and soft as the last waves of Miranda’s orgasm washed over her, and the operative exhaled a quiet sigh of contentment as she allowed her eyes to close and her body to fully relax. Jack kept kissing her softly; her lips, her cheek, her jawline, her neck… causing a slow smile to cross Miranda’s face before she finally opened her eyes and turned her head to face her.

Jack was looking at her with an expression Miranda couldn’t fully read, yet noted a level of fondness in all the same, until suddenly she scrunched up her nose and informed her, “You know, my ass _still_ hurts, Cheerleader. I think you fucking bruised me.” And God, it was just… so utterly ridiculous after the intimacy of what they had just done that Miranda couldn’t help but bust out laughing, having to cover her mouth to muffle the sound. “Hey, fuck you, it does!” Jack defended, but sounded amused nonetheless as she smirked down at her.

“You’re such an idiot,” Miranda responded, but there was fondness in her tone as she reached for her, pulling Jack in for a lingering kiss until finally the woman settled next to her on her side. Chewing on her bottom lip, Miranda glanced at her before finishing, “But you’re… _my_ idiot, I suppose. That is… if we’re going to try this again.”

Jack scrunched up her nose a little in protest as she placed her chin on Miranda’s shoulder. “…We really gotta do this talking thing?”

“Look, I know we’re completely awful at it, but…” Miranda sighed softly, turning her gaze towards the ceiling for a moment as she continued, “but I think we really need to learn, because the entire reason our relationship fell apart the last time was because we didn’t talk to one another.”

“Actually, it fell apart because _you_ didn’t talk to _me;_ ‘cause in case you forgot, you just fucked off without a goddamn word to me about it.”

“I tried before, Jack; in the bathroom of the club,” Miranda defended, not about to take all of the blame. Yes, she did own most of it, but not _all_ of it by far. “It wasn’t as though you were exactly open to having a discussion about your future; you immediately shut it down and stormed out on me. And yes perhaps I should have tried again, and _yes_ , I am aware that I own most of the blame here, but there were two of us in that relationship, Jack, and it was far from perfect on both sides.”

Jack rolled her eyes at that, but she didn’t counter against the assessment, as apparently on some level, she realized it to be true. “Fine, what the fuck ever, alright? Past shit; it doesn’t matter anymore. So what do we even need to talk about here?”

“Well for one, I would appreciate a straight answer about whether or not you’d like to be with me,” Miranda answered softly, catching Jack’s gaze again. “And I don’t mean in some undefined sexual way littered with confusing feelings and uncertainty. I mean… would you—are you even _interested_ in entering into an exclusive relationship with me?”

“Way to make it sound fucking technical, Miranda; ‘cause that’s not weird at all.”

Miranda exhaled a frustrated breath then, turned more fully to face the woman beside her, and grabbed her chin to get her full attention as she pulled her face towards her. “ _Jack,_ ” she responded pointedly. “Do you want to be my girlfriend or not? Yes or no.”

“Obviously, okay? Shit,” Jack answered, pulling her chin out of Miranda’s hand and rolling her eyes. “I thought I made that pretty damn clear by waiting around for you instead of fucking everything in sight the past two months.”

And, alright, she did have a point there.

“Well, I just… I just wanted to make sure,” Miranda responded softly, feeling a little self-conscious all of a sudden since perhaps she should have known that. Still, she preferred definites to guesswork. “The last time we spoke about… well, anything serious, you were still having trouble trusting me; for all I knew, you could have just wanted my body and not—not _me,_ you know? So I was just making certain that we were on the same page.”

“And _are_ we?” Jack asked pointedly, her tone making Miranda realize that she hadn’t exactly voiced her side of it yet either.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, feeling foolish that there she was, basically chiding Jack on her lack of communication skills when she herself hadn’t even shared her own feelings on the matter yet. “Yes, of course. I’m—I’m sorry, I thought that was…” Miranda trailed off then though, realizing Jack’s point as she finished softly with, “a given.”

Jack shot her a look like, ‘See? What did I just fucking say?’ and Miranda puffed out her cheeks as she exhaled a long breath of air. “Alright, I see your point,” she conceded. “But still, even if things are… rather obvious, it probably wouldn’t hurt to talk about them, just to make sure.”

“Did you read some self-help book lately or something?” Jack asked, looking at her strangely. “Like ‘Relationships for the Clinically Moronic’?”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “ _No,_ I just…” Sighing softly, the operative shrugged and shook her head, looking away. Tangling her fingers in her hair, Miranda breathed out, “I don’t know, I just don’t want to screw this up again, and we’re quite… bad at all of this, to be very honest. I guess it just makes me a little anxious.”

“Yeah, okay, so we’ll learn not to be shit together, what’s the big deal?” Jack countered, apparently not seeing the problem here. “Look, I get your issue with… perfection, and whatever, and having this insane need to be good at absolutely fucking everything that you do, but wasn’t the whole goddamn point of you being into me the fact that we’re like this huge messy stain on your picture perfect life? So just… I don’t know, take a breath and fucking be chaotic with me, yeah? We’ve been back together for like two seconds, so just chill and… you know, _enjoy_ it, or whatever.”

Miranda pursed her lips, her eyes finding Jack’s once more. “You’re not… worried?” She didn’t understand how Jack wouldn’t be; after what she had done, she would have thought the woman would have had a harder time trusting her again.

“You mean do I think you’re gonna fuck off on me again?” Miranda bit the inside of her cheek in guilt, but nodded because yes, that was what she was referring to. Jack sighed heavily then and admitted, “I don’t… I don’t fucking know okay? But I figure I could sit here without you and be miserable or be here _with_ you and maybe not be so… whatever, alright? Like I’ve been fucking miserable enough in my life, so why would I wanna purposely make shit worse? That’s just fucking stupid, Miranda.”

“So you still don’t… fully trust me,” Miranda deduced slowly. “But you’re still willing to try?” Her brow creased then, and she asked softly, “…Why?” Jack didn’t really seem the type to willingly put herself in the way of potential emotional harm.

“Because of the whole fucking crowded room thing I said earlier, okay, Cheerleader?” Jack shot back, clearly becoming frustrated and uncomfortable by this conversation. “Shit, keep up.”

Miranda smiled softly, enjoying the way that statement made her feel. But then she looked up at her, and saw that the other woman’s gaze refused to meet her own. “Jack,” Miranda responded softly, reaching forwards to tangle their fingers together, holding her hand tightly against her own. “I’m not going to fuck off on you again, I promise.”

“Yeah, well,” Jack mumbled, her eyes resting on Miranda for a moment. “Show, don’t tell, you know?”

“I know,” Miranda whispered, realizing that it was going to take some time for Jack to fully believe that. But if she had a say in things, they would have quite a while to try to rectify the situation; and it was strange, realizing that, as Miranda had never really wanted a relationship that lasted for more than a night, let alone a few months or years or whatever else. But looking at Jack, and already having lost her once before, Miranda knew that if they could manage it, then she would like this to last for quite a long time. Jack made her… Jack made her _happy,_ and that wasn’t something Miranda found very often.

After gently coaxing Jack towards her with their linked hands, the other woman laid her head against Miranda’s chest, using her breasts as a makeshift pillow. Miranda’s fingers ran through the other woman’s hair, it having fallen out of her ponytail quite some time ago during their little bout of marathon sex all over the apartment, and for the first time, Miranda allowed herself to actually take in the place that Jack now called home.

“It’s very… bare,” Miranda noted softly, and off of Jack’s confused look she explained, “Your apartment.”

Not only was Jack’s ‘bed’ just a mattress and box spring on the floor, but there was nothing else in the room at all. Her clothes were only barely hung up; most of them still sitting in her open luggage at the bottom of the closet floor, and what consisted of Jack’s living room was a couch and a small TV. There were no decorations, no anything really, that made this place her home, despite the fact that she had been living there for over a month now. And it wasn’t that Jack didn’t have any money, as most Alliance jobs these days paid fairly well, so Miranda couldn’t understand why this place looked the way that it did.

“Yeah, well… not too big on the whole ‘home’ thing,” Jack told her, fingers idly playing with Miranda’s bellybutton as she looked towards her closet. “Don’t really see a point; never really stay in one place for too long.”

“Yes, but… aren’t you planning on staying here?” Miranda asked carefully, looking down at the woman atop her. “After the school is rebuilt, you’ll be teaching there, won’t you? So if there’s anywhere to put roots down, Jack, it’s probably here in this city.”

“I know, but—” Jack started, but then stopped herself as she bit the inside of her cheek, her brow creasing. Miranda’s expression echoed hers as she felt like there was something Jack wasn’t sharing with her, but the other woman just pushed herself into a seated position as she shook her head. “Look, I just—I got some shit I need to talk to you about, or just _someone_ really, but fuck everyone else ‘cause you’re the only person I ever wanna talk to, but like… I don’t want to do it right now, okay? So can we just go watch some TV and cuddle naked on the fucking couch or whatever it is that normal couples are supposed to do right now?”

At first, Miranda didn’t understand why Jack was acting strangely about putting roots down here, but then she realized it wasn’t so much the home aspect, but the _job_ one, and God, how could Miranda have been so stupid? Jack may have agreed to help rebuild the school, but Miranda was beginning to believe that she hadn’t yet agreed to teach there again after it was done. And of course she would be hesitant to take on that role to those kids again; what had happened on the battlefield was horrific, and it would no doubt leave Jack wondering if she was even capable or worthy of it. It made Miranda’s heart ache for her, but in all honesty, she should have expected something like this to happen; the war had left deep scars on Jack, and Miranda doubted she’d be able to overcome them without help.

Still, Jack’s admission that she at least did have something to talk about, and _was_ planning on sharing it with her at a later date, kept Miranda silent about her realization. If Jack didn’t want to discuss it right now, then she would respect that; and so Miranda’s lips upturned into a soft smile as she nodded her compliance. “Alright, we can try the ‘normal’ thing right now, if you’d like.” But as Jack moved to get up, Miranda took ahold of her hand and pulled her back down to the bed. “ _Although…_ ” she drawled, almost pulling her right back on top of her again. “If we’re going to do the ‘normal’ thing, perhaps… an actual date is in order?”

Miranda looked at her hopefully, and Jack’s brow rose. “Like dinner and a movie and all that shit?” she asked.

“It doesn’t have to be that traditional, but… something to that effect, yes,” Miranda responded, anxiously chewing on her bottom lip for a moment. She wasn’t exactly sure if this would be something Jack was even interested in, but she wanted to try. “Are you free tomorrow night? And—you know, you don’t have to… say that you want to do this with me if you don’t,” Miranda quickly explained before Jack could even answer. “I mean if you’d rather approach this casually then we can, but I just thought it might be… well that it could be fun.”

Jack looked at her for a long moment, and for the life of her, Miranda couldn’t read the expression on the other woman’s face. But then Jack’s eyes narrowed and she asked cautiously, “…Do I gotta wear a dress?”

Miranda snorted in amusement. “No, of course you don’t. Not that I would complain if you _did_ but… I’m more than aware that that is not your thing, Jack.”

“So… what would we do?” Jack asked, still looking a little hesitant about this plan. “You said I don’t gotta wear a dress but you’re like… all fancy and proper and shit; aren’t I gonna embarrass you if you bring me to a nice place?”

“First of all, you could never embarrass me—” Miranda began, but Jack snorted in disbelief and she smirked amending that. “Alright, you could easily embarrass me, but not because of what you chose to wear. My only real concern is keeping my private affairs _private,_ so as long as you don’t feel the need to cause a scene anywhere we go, then we’ll be fine.”

Jack puffed out her cheeks as she exhaled an annoyed breath of air. “Jesus, Miranda, that was _one time—_ ”

“I’m aware of that, but you seemed disbelieving about my statement about causing me embarrassment when we were out, so I was just explaining where that line was,” Miranda told her, before tucking a stray strand of hair behind Jack’s ear. “Regardless though,” she continued, “I’m not even interested in going somewhere ‘nice’ or ‘fancy’. The whole point of a date is to do something we _both_ enjoy, and are both comfortable with.”

“Like what?”

“Well… how do you feel about Eternity?” Miranda asked, figuring that would be a place they would both enjoy. “We could drink, dance a little, and… I don’t know, see where the night takes us from there. Interested?”

Jack grinned. “A bar? You’re speaking my fucking language, Cheerleader.”

“I thought so,” Miranda answered with a small smirk, just before leaning in and kissing Jack softly on the lips. “So,” she breathed, gaze flickering up to meet Jack’s. “I’ll pick you up at ten?”

“Nine,” Jack corrected, her lips finding the underside of Miranda’s jaw, her neck, and then up to her ear as she breathed, “’Cause you know you’re gonna show up in something sexy as hell, and I’m gonna have no choice but to bend you over my dining room table fuck the hell out of you before we leave…”

Miranda chuckled softly before Jack began sucking on the base of her neck, and her laugh turned into a whispered moan as she grasped onto her. “True,” she breathed, a slow smirk crossing her face as she tangled her fingers in Jack’s hair and spread her legs for the other woman to get between them. “Very, _very_ true…”

Because if that wasn’t the plan before, that was certainly the plan now.

**TBC…**


	15. XV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, this exists again. Sorry it’s been like a year; I suck.

**XV.**

First dates were supposed to be such magical, nerve-wracking experiences; filled with shy smiles, hesitancy, and butterflies, the whole point of them is to get to know one another and see where you might fit in each other’s lives. Or, at least, that seemed to be the theme of them in the romance novels that Miranda had read; to be honest, she didn’t have much personal experience in that area to make an accurate comparison.

Still, with Jack though, it was nothing like that.

While that may have been their first official date, they had been together for quite some time before; they already knew one another, already felt comfortable with each other, and had already found that they both could and _wanted_ to fit into one another’s lives. As such, it kept the pressure off of the night, and Miranda began to realize that they seemed to have skipped a few steps in what’s usually considered to be the normal progression of a relationship. Still though, she didn’t mind; in fact she found she rather preferred it this way, as it made being out with Jack that much more comfortable. It was almost like they were just two friends casually hanging out; although in the end a friend probably wouldn’t whisper dirty things in her ear all night and sneakily fuck her right up against the bar just to see if anyone would notice. 

Which someone did, and then they got kicked out. Oh, but it was so, _so_ worth it.

They had decided to make Fridays their official date nights, as with their jobs, they barely got to see one another during the week outside of the occasional visits during lunch breaks. The new Grissom Academy was almost completely built, and Miranda constantly had her hands filled at the research facility as she tried to get it up and running as soon as humanly possible. 

While she had opted to give Liara her research on the Lazarus Project in order to help Shepard, the doctors at the hospital still couldn’t seem to do much more than keep the woman stable within her coma, which was causing the asari to become desperate, as it had been almost two months now since Shepard had been admitted with no foreseeable change. Miranda swore to her she would help in any way that she could once her facility was operational, and eventually Liara agreed that it might be their best option. The pressure was almost unbearable to deal with, and Miranda constantly found herself stressed out as she found she quite literally had her friend’s life in her hands. And God, she prayed that at the end of the day it would work, because it didn’t they would be truly out of options, and all that would be left was to pull the plug on Shepard’s life support. She couldn’t—that _couldn’t_ happen; not after everything.

As such, Miranda often took her work home with her. It was early Friday afternoon when she was pouring over a datapad in her new apartment, so absorbed with what she was reading that the frantic knocking sound on her front door almost made her jump out of her skin. After taking a breath and placing the datapad on the coffee table, Miranda’s brow creased as she got up from the couch, tying her robe together before fiddling with her reading glasses on the bridge of her nose and heading towards the door. She wasn’t expecting anyone; at least not for a few hours anyway, so she wasn’t certain who would come calling right then, as in all honesty, she barely saw anyone outside of Jack nowadays. Her work kept her far too busy to entertain much of a personal life, and what little time she _did_ have, she specifically reserved for either the occasional visits from her sister, or her girlfriend. 

Who, in the end, was the person on the other side of the door.

“Jack, I thought you weren’t picking me up for a few—” _Hours,_ Miranda tried to finish, but the rest of her words were lost to her as Jack practically pushed her way into the apartment and started pacing like a mad woman.

“I need to—I need to talk to you.” Jack was already wearing a hole into her carpet as her nails scraped over her scalp and, Jesus, she was making Miranda a little dizzy.

“Alright, slow down,” Miranda tried, placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder to try to get her to stop pacing. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

The woman stopped and looked at her then, and apparently seemed to get jerked out of her anxiety for a moment as her brow furrowed and she asked suddenly, “The fuck are you wearing glasses for?”

Miranda’s brow rose, not really expecting that question or the sudden change in topic as she stumbled a little over her answer. “I… I need them to read.” Why, did she look awful in them or something? Feeling a little self-conscious, Miranda made to take them off, but Jack stopped her.

“Nah, don’t do that; you look sexy in them. Like some hot for teacher bullshit and— _shit,_ ” Jack’s anxiety seemed to be back full swing as she started pacing again, her fingers fisting in her hair. “Jesus, I don’t—I don’t know what to do. I need to talk to you, I gotta—”

“Okay, hey… _hey,_ ” Miranda gently encouraged, placing her hands on Jack’s forearms to get her to stop pacing and look at her. Jack exhaled a frustrated sigh, looking so incredibly helpless and lost and Miranda gently tried, “Just take a breath and talk to me, alright? What’s wrong?”

“I… I fucked up,” Jack told her, her tone high pitched and frantic as she looked at Miranda like she was trapped in her own head; trapped in her own memories, her own fear. “Shit, Miranda… I fucked _up_ , and they still want me to—what if I fuck up again; how can anyone trust me?! _I_ don’t even trust me!”

_Oh._

Miranda had been expecting this conversation for a while now, ever since she noticed Jack’s unwillingness to put down roots in a place that should be home for her, because she knew exactly why she was hesitant to do so. “Jack, _Jack,_ ” she tried, needing the other woman to stop panicking and just take a second and listen to her. “Jack, I promise I understand what you’re—look, just… just please take a second and breathe okay? Then we’ll talk.”

Jack exhaled a long, shaking breath at that as she nodded her understanding, wringing out her hands as she bounced a little on the balls of her feet. Miranda nodded encouragingly to her, demonstrating another deep breath as Jack followed suit. “Good,” Miranda responded softly, keeping her tone rather quiet to try to instill a sense of calm in the other woman. “ _Good._ Just keep breathing for me; I promise I’ll help you figure this out.”

“I’m fucking trying, okay? I just—!”

“ _Jack,_ ” Miranda interrupted pointedly, not wanting her to speak right now; she still wasn’t in the frame of mind to do so. “Just breathe. That’s all I need you to do for me right now.”

Jack chewed anxiously on the inside of her cheek, her eyes still wide with panic and fear over being offered a position of control and authority that she didn’t believe herself suited for, but she at least did what she was told and finally stopped talking, allowing Miranda to coach her through a few more deep breathes.

Eventually Jack’s breathing began to regulate, and Miranda pursed her lips in sympathy as she drew the other woman into a hug. “The school is going to reopen again soon, isn’t it?” she breathed, figuring that was what drove Jack to the precipice; before, when she was just rebuilding it, she hadn’t been forced to face the possibility of retaking her old position. Jack knew that she would have to face it eventually of course, but it made it easier to ignore when the school wasn’t even built. Now, construction was nearly complete, and the school no doubt needed to know if she was planning on coming back. Now, Jack needed to make a decision, and clearly she didn’t feel as though she was ready to.

“They need an answer by Monday,” Jack responded softly, although didn’t sound surprised that Miranda knew what was bothering her before she spelled it out for her. Her words were muffled, lips pressed against the older woman’s shoulder as she fisted her hands in Miranda’s robes. “Fucking _Monday,_ and I don’t—I don’t even know what I…!”

“Hey,” Miranda interrupted softly, pulling away from her a little in order to look the other woman in the eyes. Gently cupping her face, she encouraged Jack to look at her as she told her, “Jack, what… what _happened_ during the war, it wasn’t—it was in no way your fault. Not at all. If you need to blame someone for it, then blame the Reapers; they’re the ones who killed your kids, not you.”

“But they wouldn’t have even fucking _been_ out there if not for—!”

“For their desire to _help,_ ” Miranda interrupted pointedly, needing Jack to realize that she didn’t force anyone to follow her. “They wanted to fight; they _wanted_ to protect humanity, to protect all of us, and they _did._ They made their choice; _all_ of them, they made their choice, and you shouldn’t be anything but proud of those kids, because we couldn’t have succeeded without their help. You gave them _strength,_ Jack; you gave them conviction and you taught them to be brave, to fight for our survival, and I think… I think they would thank you for that.”

“Thank me for getting them _killed?_ ” Jack snapped, her eyes welling up with furious upset as she pulled away from the other woman. “The fuck’s wrong with you? They’re _dead_ , Miranda; that’s not—!”

“Not all of them,” Miranda countered, and Jack’s words stuck in the back of her throat then as she looked away from her. Peering up at her, the operative took in the expression on her girlfriend’s face before she asked softly, “The two of your students who survived… have you spoken to them?”

Jack pursed her lips, momentarily silent as she shifted the weight between her feet. “—Yeah,” she admitted after a moment. “They’re… helping with the reconstruction and all that shit. Gonna be teachers themselves now, I guess.”

“And have they said anything about _you_ coming back to teach?” Miranda inquired, although already knew from the look on Jack’s face that they had; just the mention of it made the other woman look frustrated, as it would no doubt illegitimize her own fears. She watched Jack run her hand through her hair, pacing a little anxiously as she shook her head.

“I mean, yeah, they’ve fucking—they said something to me about it, yeah. But that doesn’t—!”

“And what did they say?” Miranda asked patiently, not allowing Jack’s frustrations to get to her; it was obvious the other woman wanted to move this conversation into the direction where her fears would be validated, maybe so she could feel okay about walking away, but Miranda wasn’t going to let that happen. Becoming a teacher was the best thing that had happened to Jack, and she wasn’t about to just let her throw that away; it was obvious it made her happier more than anything else ever had before.

“They said they wanted me to come back, okay?!” Jack snapped, rounding on her. Her eyes flashed, like she blamed Miranda for making her admit something like that when it didn’t fit into her mental breakdown. “But they’re not the ones who are _dead,_ Miranda; they’re not the ones who are—!”

“No, they’re the ones who _survived,_ ” Miranda interrupted strongly, needing Jack to see a different view of things. “They’re the ones who lived to see another day, because of what _you_ taught them. Do you think they would have made it through the war if it wasn’t for you? When you met them they were just confused, angry kids, and you turned them into capable adults; _you_ turned them into heroes, Jack, and now you’ve inspired them to become teachers as well, so they can pass what you taught them down to others. Can’t you see how amazing that is?”

“Yeah, well… if they’re teaching other kids what I taught ‘em, doesn’t mean they fucking need me then, does it?”

“Jack, you and I both know that if you didn’t desperately want to go back, then you wouldn’t be here debating whether or not you should,” Miranda interrupted, gently placing her hands on the other woman’s forearms as she looked up at her. “You loved teaching, and you were _good_ at it. And yes, terrible things happened during the war, and you lost people that you cared about; we _all_ did. Nobody, and I mean _nobody_ who led a squad against the Reapers, came back with a zero percent mortality rate. We all lost people we were meant to be leading, Jack… myself included.”

Jack pursed her lips and glanced down at her then, looking as though she wished Miranda could relate to her, yet in the end knowing that despite the similarities, they still weren’t the same. “You didn’t know them,” Jack responded softly, solemnly. “You didn’t teach them; spend every fucking day with them for nearly a year. They were just assigned to your unit, Miranda; it’s not—”

“Do you think I _like_ knowing I led people to their deaths?” Miranda countered angrily, her chest constricting with emotion as she remembered watching people around her die. “I gave the bloody order, Jack; I might not have known each and every one of them personally, but I’m still partially the reason why they aren’t here to experience and enjoy the victory that we fought so hard for, and believe me, that _cuts_ me. But it was a war, and hard decisions had to be made. And yes, it was terrible, and _yes_ the deaths we oversaw will no doubt haunt us until the day we die, but it’s _over_ now. When you step into that school, you won’t be training soldiers anymore, Jack; you’ll just be teaching kids how to control the powers they were gifted with. It’s not the same.”

Jack was silent for a moment, swallowing hard as she shoved her hands into her cargo pants pockets and leaned up against the arm rest of the couch. Staring at an imperfection in one of the wooden floor panels, she chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment before finally responding, “Thought you were like… ‘bigger picture’ type of bullshit; ‘the ends justify the means’ or however the fuck that saying goes. Why do you even care about people you don’t know, if it meant that we kicked the Reapers’ asses?”

“Because it seems Shepard screwed me up just as badly as she screwed _you_ up,” Miranda admitted, using Jack’s words from that day back at her, as she knew the woman would understand what she meant better that way. “And a part of me— a part of me hates her for that too, because it was… _easier,_ not to care. But you know what? We might… I think we might actually be better people for it. It hurts; it fucking _hurts_ to feel like you failed, but that’s what… it’s what reminds us that we’re human, Jack; and I think for people like you and me… we need that reminder more than most.”

Jack’s brow crinkled, her arms wrapping around her waist as she looked at the woman across from her, like maybe she was finally realizing how alike the really were. “You don’t… feel like you’re human?” she asked softly, because it was obvious she struggled with that herself; and with the way she grew up, Miranda knew it would be difficult for Jack to see herself as anything other than a monster of someone else’s creation.

“I was born in a lab, Jack,” Miranda responded softly, sadly. She hated that she sounded so self-loathing about it, but it was something she still, even after all these years, had a hard time seeing past. “What do you think?”

Jack swallowed hard, but nodded her understanding as she looked down at the floor once again. She might not have been born in a lab herself, but she was created in one all the same, and maybe, for the first time, she was realizing that she wasn’t quite as alone as she once believed herself to be. It was something Miranda saw in her since the beginning, a kindred spirit of sorts, and while Jack may have understood that Miranda was in an abusive environment as a child as well, it was obvious she never realized that despite their very different situations, they still came out of them with relatively the same mindset. 

“And those kids that you taught,” Miranda continued, needing Jack to see how important it was that she continue her work, “some of them were in bad situations, just like you and I were; that’s why you were chosen to teach them, weren’t you?” Because Jack’s students were not well-adjusted at all; at least, not at first. Her class… they were made up of biotics who were angry, violent, and blameful. In the end, Jack wasn’t chosen to just teach them to how control their biotics; she was chosen to rehabilitate them, because she was the only one who could. “You could relate, you could… you could make them see that despite what they had gone through, that they could still become something more, something _better._ Abuse doesn’t define a victim, Jack; you’re living proof of that. Don’t you think those kids need someone to remind them of that too?”

And it was that, more than anything else, that ended up speaking to Jack. She spent so much of her life thinking she wasn’t worth more than what she was built for, what the abuse that she was dealt as a child shaped her into, and was constantly filled with anger and self-loathing because of it. But things had changed; Shepard had showed her that she was more than what Cerberus had forced on her, and it finally allowed Jack the freedom to live; to grow and shape herself into the person _she_ wanted to be, and not what others had dictated she become. It had made her happy, and because of that Jack couldn’t bear the thought of leaving other kids to a life and mindset that had nearly destroyed her. 

She needed to show others that there was hope, because she herself had never thought that there would be for someone like her. Jack had believed that she would never be anything more than a victim, never anything more than the scars that littered her body and her soul, and yet she turned out to be wrong. She made more of herself, made more _for_ herself, and now, surprisingly, she almost resembled a well-adjusted human being, with a stable job, a stable relationship, and a stable place to call home. And Miranda knew, if you had asked Jack two years ago if she thought she would ever have those things, she would have laughed in your face and told you that you were fucked for ever believing she could be someone ‘normal’.

But she was. She was almost downright _boring_ , with her nine to five and the distinct lack of gunfire in her life, yet Jack loved it. She smiled so much more now, finally feeling as though she fit in somewhere, and Miranda found that she loved watching her grab onto a life that she never thought she would have with both hands and making the most of it.

[x]

Miranda nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand slapped against the door frame of her office, forcing the person who was practically barreling through it to stop suddenly. “Damn, Cheerleader, you really need to relax; you looked like you were gonna shit yourself,” Jack noted, chuckling a little as Miranda shot her an exasperated look as she attempted to put her papers back into order; when the other woman had startled her, they had practically gone flying.

“I can’t _relax_ , Jack; I have far too much riding on me right now,” Miranda responded tiredly, briefly fiddling with the glasses on her nose. “You can’t imagine the pressure of trying to save the galaxy’s greatest hero; the press alone is maddening, and I wish everyone would just bugger off and let me do my job in peace, because having the entire world watching is not _bloody_ helping.” Her hand slammed on her desk then as she violently added another paper to the pile, taking her frustrations out on her work.

“Miranda, you rebuilt Shepard after she got thrown out of a burning fucking space ship; you’ll get it done,” Jack responded as she moved towards her from the doorway, sounding as though any other option was completely unfathomable to her. She had complete faith in her and despite that not making it any easier, Miranda appreciated it all the same and shot her a tight lipped smile in response.

“It’s just difficult; Liara is insistent about doing this in the least synthetic way possible, but organic matter takes so much longer to grow and has the possibility of rejecting. We’ve already tried _two_ lungs and neither have taken; her body’s cells just keep attacking them,” Miranda told her, placing her elbows on her desk as she massaged her temples. “Thankfully the debris she was trapped under only managed to collapse _one_ of her lungs, but Shepard will be hooked up to breathing tubes for the rest of her life unless I get her body to take a lab-grown lung or we fit her with a synthetic one, because the other one that she has left isn’t strong enough to be solely relied upon.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Jack responded, leaning on the desk across from the other woman. “I mean, this is the kind of shit you’re actually _good_ at.” That sounded a bit like a backwards compliment and Miranda narrowed her eyes at her in response, but Jack just pushed past that and invited, “Come on, it’s lunch time and you seriously need a break before you pop a fucking aneurism or something. Burgers?”

Miranda sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair. “I can’t; I’m supposed to oversee her skin cell regeneration treatment in like an hour and a half and I have a mountain of paperwork to get through before then. Believe me, if I could—”

“Uh… correct me if I’m wrong here, but aren’t you the fucking boss?” Jack interrupted, looking at Miranda like she was stupid for following restrictions that she herself had set. To her, it was as simple as lifting those restrictions and doing whatever it was that she wanted. “Just push the shit back or something.”

Miranda shot her a chiding look. “That’s so terribly inconsiderate of other people’s schedules—”

“I meant the paperwork, dumbass,” Jack responded, rolling her eyes. “Does any of it _need_ to be done before the treatment shit, or can you do it after?” Miranda pursed her lips, which was enough of an answer for Jack; in the end, she didn’t _need_ to do anything right away, but she just detested feeling swamped and so she tried to get things done as soon as humanly possible. “Alright, _so…_ burgers? Or tacos; I could go for some tacos.”

Miranda exhaled a helpless sigh, looking up at Jack who was now holding out her hands and encouraging her to take them by wiggling her fingers. It was… actually rather adorable, and so Miranda lightly rolled her eyes in defeat as she took her girlfriend’s hands in her own, allowing Jack to help her up as she responded, “Burgers. But we have to be back in forty five minutes, Jack; I mean it. So no sex after we eat.”

“You realize I came from work, yeah?” Jack responded, looking at her like she was ridiculous for thinking she had more time than she actually had. And, oh right; it was Thursday. Lately, Miranda seemed completely oblivious as to what day it actually was. For some reason, she had thought it was the weekend. She worked through most of them lately anyhow. “I got a half hour, Princess; so let’s get a move on.”

Miranda was about to follow her out the door, but Jack stopped and used a solitary finger to gently nudge the glasses that were resting on her nose. “Forgetting something?” she said, smirking as Miranda looked a little flustered at how disorganized her life was as she removed the glasses from her face, resting them on the desk.

“Sorry, I’m a little spaced right now I suppose; my head is going in a thousand different directions.”

“Hey, not like I don’t like them; but with the way you are right now, you’d probably forget they were on your face until you realized you couldn’t see more than two feet in front of you,” Jack responded, looking a little amused. But then her expression turned serious as she continued, “Hey, I meant to ask you about that actually. Like I thought you were supposed to be built genetically superior or some shit—shouldn’t you have twenty/twenty vision? You used to.”

“I did,” Miranda confirmed as she fell into step with her, walking from her office. “But regardless of my father’s pursuits of ‘perfection’, he still didn’t get everything right. My vision isn’t the first defect to surface, and I’m sure it won’t be the last; right now all I can hope for is that if anything else deteriorates, it ends up being rather minimal.”

“Wait,” Jack said, stopping mid stride to turn to look at her, her expression masking over with concern as she reached out, clasping her hand around the older woman’s forearm. “What the fuck do you mean, _deteriorates?_ Like are you gonna go totally blind or something? And what the hell _else_ is defective; why the fuck didn’t you tell me any of this before?” 

“I didn’t… I don’t know, I suppose I just didn’t want to worry you,” Miranda lied, stumbling a bit over her answer because honestly, it hadn’t… really occurred to her to share those things with Jack. It wasn’t anything serious or life-threatening, after all. “I don’t think I’ll go completely blind, no; I think it was just a genetic imperfection that my father failed to weed out of his strand of DNA. He had to wear contacts for most of his life, and I suppose it’s just catching up to me now.”

That seemed to relax Jack a bit, but she still looked a little bristled by the information. “…And the other shit that’s wrong with you?”

“It’s just… one—one thing,” Miranda responded, suddenly very uncomfortable with this conversation, because she had never told anyone this before. She still didn’t know if she wanted to; mostly because she still hadn’t determined whether it was a concern of hers or not, and was unsure what she would do with whatever reaction her condition presented her with. “I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t—well, it isn’t very relevant, given the kind of relationship we’re in.”

Jack just stared at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue.

“I—” Miranda began, twisting her hands nervously. She didn’t know how Jack would react, and that seemed to make her anxious; mostly because she found she very much cared about how the other woman would respond to it, but was unsure of what reaction it was that she actually feared. “I’d rather not do this here, if you wouldn’t mind. It’s deeply personal.”

Jack looked confused, yet still concerned, however allowed the subject to drop as she realized that whatever it was, the last thing Miranda wanted to do was talk about it in the middle of her hallway at work. “Yeah… yeah, we don’t gotta do this now. But it’s not—it ain’t life-threatening, right?”

Miranda shook her head, wanting to alleviate the other woman of her concerns; at least on that front. “No.”

Jack looked much more relieved after that, which allowed her to drop the subject without a hassle as the two women left the building and walked side by side down the road towards one of their favorite fast food places. Miranda knew Jack wouldn’t leave it completely though, and perhaps Miranda did owe her the truth, given their romantic relationship; if it ever progressed to something entirely more serious, after all, then it would be a subject that would need to be broached. Jack deserved to know that she couldn’t entirely promise her everything, should the woman ever want something like that.

“So how are things going at work?” Miranda asked once they had left the building, happy to change the subject. “I’m sorry we haven’t had much of a chance to catch up; my own job seems to have… well, seems to have rather consumed me. I promise I won’t miss our date night again this week though; and I really do apologize for canceling the last two times on you. Believe me, it wasn’t something I wanted to do.”

“S’fine, I get it,” Jack responded, not seeming put out in the slightest by Miranda having cancelled their plans two weeks in a row. “You’re under a lot of pressure and shit; can’t be easy.” Miranda shot her a grateful look at that, glad that she understood and wasn’t angry with her about it; she couldn’t bear to have Jack irritated with her on top of it all. Things were difficult enough as they were.

“And work’s good,” Jack answered, her fingers tangling in Miranda’s hand as they walked down the sidewalk. “Kids’re good; they’re little shits, but they’re good. Fucking Prangley though thought it would be _hilarious_ to put this huge ass, genetically altered spider thing in my desk; the thing’s harmless I guess, but I screamed like a little bitch when I opened the drawer. Asshole’s been laughing about it for the past few days, but we’ll see who’s laughing once I get my revenge.”

Miranda smirked, amused. “Are you sure it’s wise to get into a prank war with one of the other teachers?” she asked, knowing that Prangley was one of Jack’s old students, one of her surviving students, who came back to Grissom Academy to teach after the war. “I’m sure that can’t be a good example for the children.”

“Shit’s harmless,” Jack responded, waving off the other woman’s concern. “Besides, gives them something else to focus on; something else to enjoy. These kids – _my_ kids, anyway, since Prangley’s got a bunch of well-adjusted ones – they’re always pissed off about something or another; this makes them laugh. That’s something they need.”

Miranda smiled, happy that Jack cared so much about her kids’ well-being; not that it was a surprise, as she had cared quite deeply for her old students as well, but it was nice to hear. It gave her a sense of purpose, and that was something the other woman needed. “Well I’m glad you’re happy there,” Miranda responded as they entered the fast food joint. It had only been a few weeks since the school had reopened, but even after Jack had agreed to take the position, she had seemed rather hesitant about it. Now, at least, it seemed those worries had dissipated, and she was adjusting to a position of authority again rather well. 

After they had ordered their food they sat down in the patio area outside, beginning to eat their meals. “Oh,” Jack mentioned through a bite full of burger. Miranda shot her a look, and Jack at least swallowed it before continuing. “Forgot to mention something to you. You know how like… my kids are all pretty much older? Well the other teacher who was handling some of the younger students with issues I guess was having a hard time controlling them or something, so a few of my classes got shuffled around so I could take them on for about half the day.”

“You’re teaching children?” Miranda asked, surprised; while she assumed teenagers would be easy for Jack, as she was rather laid back and kids that age appreciated something like that, younger children needed a bit more structure and discipline. 

“Ages eight to twelve,” Jack responded with a nod, picking up another fry. “I mean, it’s not bad, once you show ‘em who’s boss they generally stop trying to run around screaming and throwing their biotics around like fucking maniacs. Probably helps that I look a bit scarier than their other teacher, so they tend to not want to screw with me.”

Miranda could believe that.

“Fucking sucks though,” Jack continued through another bite of food, which Miranda didn’t chide her on considering, in the end, she knew manners weren’t exactly the other woman’s strong suit. One day she might be able to encourage her to wait to speak until she had swallowed her food, but baby steps. “I mean, seeing some of these kids, knowing what kind of situations they came out of… they’re all so fucking young, and some days it makes me just wanna jump on a ship and fly around the Traverse hunting down the assholes that hurt them, you know?”

Miranda pursed her lips in sympathy, understanding Jack’s desire to protect them. After all, she hunted down and murdered anyone who had a hand in destroying her own life; it was only natural that her first instinct be to eradicate the subject of these children’s nightmares in a more permanent way. But they both knew she couldn’t; she wasn’t that kind of person now, and Miranda could tell that Jack hated having to sit on the sidelines and do nothing about it.

“This one girl, Parke, she just turned eight… she doesn’t even fucking speak; we don’t even know if she can,” Jack continued, her voice catching with emotion as the anger she felt towards whoever had hurt her began to consume her. “Fucking batarians,” she spat, and Miranda’s heart clenched in her chest, because she knew Jack had a history with them. “Some Alliance unit rescued her from a group of slavers a few months back; she’s too young to sell, so no doubt they kept her to have their fun with until she was old enough to be of ‘use.’ I know how those bastards work, always preying on the young and the weak; shit makes me sick. A lot of them got taken into custody when the Alliance raided their camp; if you ask me though they should have fucking slaughtered them all.”

Miranda reached across the table, comfortingly covering Jack’s hand with her own. She knew how much the girl’s situation hit close to home with her. “Do you think she’ll be alright?” Miranda asked softly.

“Dunno,” Jack responded with a helpless shrug, an expression of anger and blame still etched across her brow. “Parke probably spent most of her life in a biotic containment field – most batarians slavers had them, cause biotics tend to sell for higher prices, you know? So she hasn’t had any practice controlling her abilities, and we can’t fit her with an implant until she goes through puberty, so any time she gets startled or angry shit’s always blowing up around her.”

“She’s that powerful?” Miranda asked, her brow rising. Generally, biotics without their implants aren’t able to tap into how much power they actually have, as humans were never meant to be biotic in the first place. They could move a few things here and there and maybe even throw a low-grade warp field, but it was rare that any of them could tap into anything that was actually _destructive._

“Yeah, guess she was exposed to a hell of a lot of eezo,” Jack responded, before her lips pursed into a thin line. “Generally that amount of exposure can make a kid really sick over time though, so we’re constantly monitoring her. Really hope she doesn’t end up getting a fucking brain tumor or something; not after everything she’s already been through.”

“Sounds like you really care for her.”

“Don’t get all whatever about it,” Jack scoffed, looking a little embarrassed because she knew what Miranda was implying; that she saw a part of herself in the girl, having been through horrors herself in her childhood that had nearly broken her. “I mean, I’ve only known this girl for like a week and like… I care for all my kids, you know? I’m not picking favorites or anything. I just hope she can come out on top of all this, is all.”

“I don’t know,” Jack continued, rolling her eyes a little as she sat back in her chair. “Guess I’m a bit more maternal than I ever thought I’d be, you know? Which is so fucked, considering who I am and everything, but someone’s gotta give a shit about those kids, cause no one else will. Most of them are orphans, or were abused by their parents or whatever. They got no one except us now.”

At the mention of her maternal instincts however Miranda swallowed hard, averting eye contact. Jack’s brow furrowed though, having noticed her change of demeanor. “What?”

Miranda was silent for a moment, wondering if they should even broach this subject; this wasn’t the ideal place to do it after all, but the door _had_ been opened. Perhaps she should just get it over with. “Do you… ever think that you would want children of your own?”

Jack looked surprised by the question, her brow rising slightly as she took in the expression on her girlfriend’s face, seemingly unable to assess why it was that she asked. “I dunno,” Jack responded after a moment’s silence. “Never really thought about it, I guess. Why?”

Miranda pursed her lips, looking down at her hands that she had folded delicately together on her lap. She didn’t know whether or not she wanted to tell her; this wasn’t exactly a conversation one should have over lunch, anyway. “I was just… I was just wondering,” she tried instead, finding it easier in that moment to lie, but Jack knew better and refused to let her get away with it.

“Bullshit, you wouldn’t have that look on your face if that question didn’t mean something to you.” Miranda was silent though, and it took a moment, but Jack seemed to put two and two together rather quickly; although in the end that wasn’t much of a surprise, given their earlier conversation. “Oh,” she said softly, realization dawning on her features. “You can’t have kids… can you?”

Miranda bit the inside of her cheek lightly as she shook her head no. She didn’t trust her voice.

Jack was silent for another long moment then, just observing Miranda’s demeanor until she finally asked, “—That bother you?” 

Miranda exhaled a small sigh before she shrugged, unable to really assess her feelings on that matter. Once, she never believed that she would even have a life that allowed for children; being an operative for Cerberus didn’t exactly leave room for child-rearing, after all. But now she had a job that didn’t put her in danger every other week, with a stable home and even a stable relationship – another thing she never believed she would have – and of course it… it made her wonder, if she would ever want something like that in her future. She still had yet to decide on an answer though.

“Well,” Jack continued after her girlfriend was decidedly silent, realizing Miranda wasn’t ready to talk about it in depth yet, “I mean, it’s not like you’re the only fucking one with a uterus here.” Miranda knew Jack was only trying to make her feel better, to make her feel like she had options should she ever chose to go down that route, but the offer – despite not being something entirely serious nor thought out in the slightest – still made Miranda look up at her sharply, surprise coloring her features because the magnitude behind it was startling, and yet was said with such ease.

“No, I didn’t mean—” Jack tried, suddenly looking very flustered, embarrassed, and defensive. “I’m not fucking saying I want to have your babies, Cheerleader—screw you, just that if there’s two chicks in a relationship and one of their hardware isn’t working, then it isn’t like you’re shit outta options or anything. I’m mean, I’m not— I’m not fucking proposing we have kids right now or anything, Miranda; stop looking at me like that!”

“No, I…” Miranda tried, although still seemed a bit shell shocked by the other woman’s offer; because even if Jack wasn’t proposing that they have children now, she still very much was telling her that the option was open, should they ever get to a place where they wanted to discuss it. And that was… that was more than she would have expected. “Jack, please don’t get all—I _know_ you weren’t offering to have my children right now, alright? I do know that. But it still… it surprised me, is all.”

“It’s just common fucking sense, alright?” Jack snapped, still very much embarrassed by what she had said; Miranda assumed that was because she hadn’t ever expected that she would, and yet it popped out of her mouth anyway. “Two chicks in a relationship; one of their shit doesn’t work, so you use the other. I’m saying in general, dumbass, not for us.”

“…Of course.” It was merely placating, as clearly Jack’s wording indicated she very much _was_ talking about them, as they were discussing _Miranda’s_ infertility and the fact that she wasn’t the only one in the relationship with a uterus, but she didn’t want to push the woman any more, as Jack seemed incredibly embarrassed about what she had said. Still, Jack seemed to know that she was being placated because she shot her a glare.

“Screw you.”

“Jack.”

“— _What?_ ” Jack bit back defensively, no doubt wishing her cheeks weren’t turning this awful red color. She looked positively murderous, but Miranda just gave her a small smile and reached across the table to cover her hand with her own.

“Thank you.”

Jack pursed her lips into a thin line, but said nothing.

“I don’t… honestly, I don’t even know if I want children,” Miranda told her, gently running her thumb over the back of the ex-convict’s hand. “And I know you’re undecided as well, and so maybe… maybe if we do end up getting to a place in our relationship where that subject should be broached, we won’t even decide that we want them. But… I do appreciate it; you telling me that that option is out there, even if you didn’t entirely think it through and even if you decide later that that’s something you wouldn’t want to do. It’s the fact that you even said it at all that means something to me, Jack.”

Jack still looked a little irritated with the remnants of her embarrassment, but she seemed to get that Miranda understood what her offer had meant, and what it didn’t mean. It was still far too early in their relationship for something like that; they hadn’t even said the ‘L’ word to each other yet, and with the kind of people that they were, they would no doubt skirt around the issue long after they felt it anyhow. So _if_ something like that was to ever be in their future, it would no doubt be a long time off.

Still, as Miranda looked across the table at her girlfriend, she finally allowed herself to consider what kind of future she might want with her and she realized that, perhaps, allowing Jack to become her ‘end all, be all’ might not be such a ludicrous scenario as it had once seemed to be.

**TBC…**


End file.
